I’m done. Stick a fork in me. Cooked. Tired. Knackered. Straight up worn out.
Y’know how I know? Every little bug knocks me down. I want to sleep but can’t. I wake up more than I’m asleep it seems. Even with chemicals.
That said, I’m taking the rest of the year off. I get on a plane tomorrow and head for Arizona hoping to recuperate and recharge and maybe stem the bleeding that is my will to continue as a nurse. Burnout is a terrible thing. So I’m going to enjoy a white Christmas in the White Mountains with my family.
Hope everyone has a wonderful Christmas and a great New Year. I’ll be seeing you in 2012. Promise.
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“Hey Wanderer, there’s a guy in 32 that wants to talk to you.”
Great, I think to myself. It’s a complaint, or a problem, or something unpleasant. Prejudicial? Probably, but the way things have been lately it’s the reality. Head up, smile plastered on I head over to 32.
As I walk in I see a familiar face. He had been with us for about 2 weeks, dealing with the effects of alcoholic cardiomyopathy and most of us only gave him even odds to stay sober and in good shape. I had spent a lot of time educating, reinforcing and generally trying to help him beat the odds so it was good to see him because he looked like it all had worked.
“Hey,” he said, ” I’ve been sober now for 73 days thanks to you guys.”
We talked for awhile as he related everything that had gone on since discharge and how he had really turned his life around. It was nice to hear for a change.