All in a Days Work

I did not want to be at work today. Nor have I wanted to be there for the other days I worked this week. Most people never really want to be at work, but they have financial obligations, so there they are. Most of the minutes of my past few days at work have consisted of, well, counting down the minutes until I could leave. Rarely am I this disinterested because I enjoy what I do. I learned something interesting, though.
I was assigned to working in the IV Room tonight and it really is my favorite place to work. Here, I am responsible for making IV admixtures, antibiotics, TPNs/PPNs and large volume electrolyte IV bags. These items, especially the TPNs/PPNs are truly things that sustain life. I may know that I have a set number of TPNs/PPNs to make for the evening and go about making them to the best of my ability. But let me tell you something, when you go on rounds through the hospital and perchance cross paths with one of the intended recipients, it changes the entire ball game. You now have a face, not just a name... everything changes. It is all new again. For me anyway. All of a sudden, I become protective of this patient as far as their pharmaceutical care goes. I feel as if it were a personal crusade to speak on behalf of the patient and do everything possible to make them well. I know it sounds corny, but then I'm corny - there are worse things, you know. And it tends to carry over to other patients as well. Look, I'm not here to paint a pretty picture so everyone is happy. The medical field is like any other. People hate their jobs, they are overworked and underpaid, and they work with insufficient funding. Yes, even when saving lives, that takes it's toll on you. The medical profession gets a bad rap, hell, often from me; but we are not above the foibles and failures of anyone else. However, this is one of the professions that does not afford the luxury of sitting back and whining about it. So if I draw my inspiration from the 85 year old lady who has been hospitalized for weeks and has no visitors to speak of, then so be it. If seeing her propped up in her bed, pillows shielding her from the collapsible bars at her sides day after day begins to wear at me, then so be it. I would like to think that the magazines, puzzles, books and games I bring in to the hospital may distract her for even a few minutes and provide her with some respite from the affliction that has decided to call her it's host. I also like to think that a quick smile and hello as I walk past the room if our eyes meet may bring her a smile, however small. Just to be seen as a person...not a patient. I may be deluded but I suppose that is my choice. There are days when I barely make it to the elevator before the tears threaten to betray my facade of strength. On one hand, I am way too sensitive for this job; on the other hand, I am just what this job needs.
There is one thing above all else that I will tell you, and I get alot of shit over this. Yes, I can be overly sensitive, and I know that - but turn the tables. If I were the lady waiting in that bed for a bed pan, medicine, food, a visitor, or even death, I would want someone to see me. Just me. Wouldn't you?