I've had some bad issues lately. Still working on whether and how to blog about them. But they're, like, serious. OK. So during all this, the question has arisen: should I even be a nurse? Should I be an ER nurse? Is it too stressful for me? One of my bosses and a doc suggested there are other areas of nursing I could do. It's a big field, and all that. I didn't hesitate with my response: "No. I'm an ER nurse."
They both nodded. They understood. No further discussion.
I was just at the store, and an ambulance went by, lights and sirens. I felt the adrenaline run up from the bottoms of my feet and thrum up my spine---nothing major, just a feeling that felt like home. I'm on a short leave right now, and I'm slated to return to work. No official reason ("official" meaning "other than crazy shit I cook up in my head") to think I will not return to exactly where I was. But the thought of not being involved with the world that ambulance represents scared me. I love all of it. I don't want to work only in research and publishing. I don't want to sit behind a desk. I WANT to find veins in fingers and talk people down from crisis situations. I WANT to eyeball someone and KNOW they're about to crash. I want the sheer insanity of it all.
I'm an ER nurse. I guess it's good to know where you stand.