I was going to be a nurse.
Oh sure. This was after I'd already gone to school and gotten a degree in Sociology (minor in Psychology). But I was going to go. Really I was. Twice.
It's what I should have done originally but the science scared me. Turns out, what scared me about science is that I was not particularly good at actually attending junior high or high school thus making my grades terrible. I should have recalled my 2nd time through high school Biology when we got to genetics and my teacher, Dr. Jones, acted surprised and then overjoyed at my brilliance. That's when I should have known medicine was for me...
But I didn't.
That's a longer story than I'm willing to share here.
Regardless, that's what I should have done with my life. It's what I started out to do on two separate occasions and didn't follow through with for this reason and another. Life? Sometimes it gets in the way. Love. It almost always will get in the way...if you let it.
When I made the decision to go to nursing school the first time - even that early on - I knew I would specialize in emergency medicine. It was an amazingly easy decision.
Because. With Emergency medicine there is absolutely no chance of forming a connection or bond with a patient. They come in critical, you do what you've got to do to stabilize them, and then they move on...to the O.R., to ICU, to a standard room, to their own home...to the morgue.
And I can't afford to make connections with random people. I just...I can't. The energy it takes to get to know, to care, to somehow love someone you will only know in passing is too much for this stupid compassionate heart.
When The Knowing rears its head...Healer...Catalyst for Change?
I'm mad at myself for caring. Because ultimately? I know better.
In order to heal I have to care. In order to care I have to forget that there is nothing else except healing and change.
And that's a good thing.