A Small Town Nurse

I want to start this post off by saying that I'm privileged enough to work with one of the best teams of nurses on earth. We have each others backs and support each other in every hairy situation you can imagine.

Working at a tiny hospital in a tiny town is a completely different experience than that of the nurse in a large hospital. Many people would ask things like "Is it weird to nurse people who you're related to?" or "Is it weird to see the same people at the grocery store that you saw in the ER that day?" Honestly? It's not even weird. If you're doing your job as a nurse, you can separate outside life from what you see in the ER.

But can you? Really?

For the little things, like giving a needle or the medications people take, yes. I don't remember (or judge) that sort of thing. I've had someone ask me if I remembered seeing their bum once. No. No I didn't. Thanks for the reminder.

For other things, it's more difficult to forget about. Since it's such a small community, I get to know, and care about my patients. I am able to form great relationships with many of them, and that is one of the most rewarding parts of my job.

There are other things, though, that you carry with you. For a long time. Some days, when I'm going about my life, grocery shopping with my little girl, I see someone and think, I remember nursing your family member, and it brings up all kind of different emotions.

I remember holding your aunts hand while she died. I remember stepping out of the room and blinking back my tears.

I remember the fear on your friends face when they were having the worst day of their life.

I remember holding out hope for you when you were praying that this wasn't a miscarriage. I remember the joy on your face when you found that it wasn't.

I remember laughing so hard at your joke that I snorted, which of course made me laugh harder.

I remember the day you felt that you lost every bit of dignity you had. I tried my best to give you some of that back.

I remember holding your hands, sitting on the stretcher, and praying with you.

I remember waking up in the middle of the night, questioning myself, whether I did or said the right thing that day.

I remember being there when we couldn't save your family member. No matter how hard we tried, and we tried SO hard.

I remember being called in to work in the middle of the night so we could transport you to a larger hospital where you could get the life saving procedures you needed. I didn't mind the loss of sleep, if it meant you could come home to your family.

I remember the day you were so scared you might die. I remember being scared too. When I see you in the community, my heart sings.

Coffee is life. And GoT.

So as you can see, it's VERY different to work in a small community than it is in a large hospital. Yes, we clock out at the end of the day, but the nurse in us is always going, thinking, remembering.