Sun Salutation.....

Daddy and I have taken up doing yoga together. Actually, I decided it was something I wanted to do and he suprisingly agreed to do it with me. I hope he keeps it up. It was nice to have him there with me, calm and breathing while we did yoga together. I felt a real connection to him. My ex husband NEVER would of done anything like that with me. But he was a giant douche bag.

The universe is so strange. Sometimes you get the things you want, other times you get the things you need.

So, life in my universe, is complicated, as usual.

I am back in therapy because I was getting good and ready to have a nervous breakdown. I am stressed out from work, my kids, my ex, my stormy relationship with Daddy, my inability to get pregnant since my surgery and pretty much everything else in my life that isn't going exactly as planned.

I was even considering going back to school and leaving nursing for good. I mean, come on, if you're going to have a nervous breakdown, you better make it a good one.

I have no concrete idea of what I would like to do, of course. Just anything but nursing. Circus clown, perhaps?

Some days I don't think that I want to be a nurse anymore. Some days I think that if I have to deal with one more sick, suffering and dying oncology patient....that I am just going to lose my fucking mind. You have no idea what a toll that plays on someone's mental health to have to deal with oncology nursing day in and day out. The faces of those patients never leave my head. I never forget their faces or their stories. Never.

Our floor frequently get letters, christmas cards, gifts, chocolates, donations, etc from the families of deceased oncology patients and they always start off their letters the same way...."You girls probably don't remember me but you looked after my Dad, Mother, Husband, Wife, Sister, Brother, etc. and I just wanted to thank you for everything you've done. You are truly angels", etc, etc.

It kind of makes me laugh. I don't think families realize how profoundly affected we are from caring for their loved ones.

Of COURSE we remember you. We remember the initial horror at diagnosis. We remember holding your hand while you wept. We remember holding your family up, being a source of support and information, an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. We remember the trials of chemo and radiation. We remember the hope and fear. We remember the remission and the JOY, praise god, the JOY. We remember the day it came back and how there was a secondary site. We remember the horrible word "metastatic". We remember your pain and suffering.

We never forget.

I walked into a patient's room last week. A patient who was waiting for results. Did she just have pneumonia, pleural effusion or was it lung cancer? She must of asked me 10 or 15 times that day if I had heard anything, if I knew anything, if her oncologist or hospitalist was around. And you know what? I lied to her. I told her I hadn't heard anything, that I didn't know anything, that her oncologist hadn't been in to do his rounds yet.

But it was a lie. All a lie. I had read her pathology report that morning, as soon as it was faxed up to us. She had lung cancer and I knew it. But I lied to her all day until the oncologist arrived that night to break the news to the family. So, word FROM the wise...never believe your nurse when she says that she doesn't know your test results. The nurse is one person that knows EXACTLY what is going on with you, your condition and your prognosis.

But it is not our place to tell you, unfortunately. So, we hide behind our nurse mask. What a shitty fucking burden to carry, you know?

Cripes I hate my fucking job sometimes. Okay, that's not quite accurate. It's more like "I hate my fucking job A LOT of the time".
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Hopefully counselling goes well and I get my life back in order soon. I am tired of being off balanced and constantly trying to stay upright.