I work with an awesome nurse who says he's "low on GAS" when he just doesn't give a shit (GAS) anymore. I say "I've got the fuck-it's." His way is more polite, but you may surmise, given the way I've started the post, that I just don't give a shit. Which would be fine, except sometimes one NEEDS to give a shit. Several. What to do? Fake it 'til you make it. "Some days it just rains shit," as a dear friend philosophically says when I list all the stuff going badly for me. "If you're at the end of your rope, just tie a knot and hang on," says another. "If you feel like you need a hand, you'll find one at the end of both arms," says still another. My friends are extremely helpful like that. Assholes. My favorite advice ever came from the most unlikely source: the dean of my nursing school. Her advice: "Buck up and quit whining."
I think we all have days when we are low on GAS, but as nurses once our clogs hit the floor we don't have the luxury of letting anyone know about it. WE MUST CARE DEEPLY ABOUT EVERY HANGNAIL, PAPERCUT, AND PERCOCETOPENIA OUT THERE.
I need some rainbows and unicorns to cancel out all the bad stuff going on. Where are the damn unicorns?