This certainly has been a very craptastic week, to say the least.
I love the ER. I love working in a chaotic, bloody, life-or-death trauma. It gets me going, it makes me focus and still see the big picture, it makes me a little giddy when I know something big is coming in. Blood, guts, and gore...you name it, I like it.
I never really stop to think about the people behind those traumas, though. I see their families just outside the curtains, and when the patients don't make it I do feel that loss inside. It's even worse when the patients are kids. But I'm always able to push it away and focus on the job at hand.
Then I get the news yesterday that one of my favorite teachers from high school was in a bad car accident. T-boned by a truck, flown to Shock Trauma, massive injuries, critical condition. And it got me thinking.
I have never truly stopped to think about how a great day for me in the ER is a devastating day for someone else. When I have the super exciting code to work on, someone else is losing a father, a husband, a son. When I have the ATV accident with brains spattered from here to Minnesota, someone else is losing a child, a new spouse, a brand new daddy. When I have the senior weeker who fell off the building, someone else gets the call that their daughter isn't going to make it.
I have never felt more guilty for loving what I do, and the career I will have in 5 short weeks. I hate that it took this beloved teacher getting into a car accident she most likely isn't going to survive to make me reflect on this. I hate that I can feel so guilty about loving traumas, and still look forward to going into work tomorrow.
Does this make me heartless?