Give Me Your Tired
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”
- Emma Lazarus
I know my readers might be getting sick of post after post of me describing my fatigue and frustration. But I’m not going to apologize. This is my life. The good, the bad, and the ugly.
I just got home from a very long day at the hospital. It’s midnight and I still have to eat, shower, etc. I probably won’t drift away to sleep until 2:00 a.m., if I’m lucky. Then I have to get up at 5:00 a.m. and start the whole dreadful process all over again.
I filled out and signed my first death certificate today. I have so many thoughts that I’d like to share about watching this particular patient die over the past 2 weeks. But I have not the energy to share. I hope to do so at a later date.
I also informed a patient and her family today that what they thought was an easily fixable problem was actually metastatic colon cancer. That took everything right out of me. It felt strange being the person to break this news. I did it in the best way that I could. But I have no idea if I did it in the best way.
I was informed by a nurse that my patient was refusing discharge. I talked with him for about 10 minutes while he sat naked on his bed (another long story) and poured his problems out to me. He finally decided to leave.
I had another patient who refused to leave because he didn’t have bus fare home and the free bus fare office thingy was closed. I gave him $3. He thanked me profusely and left.
My job might be frustrating and fatiguing, but I do love working at a city hospital where most of my patients are immigrants, impoverished, and in great need.
I only wish I had the energy to do more.
Photo: Taken at the subway stop outside of my window.