flood

i'm not sure what i opened my eyes to: a vision of myself in africa? the pain of leaving my hospital unit? the emotion of returning? (not even sure that will ever happen!)

i don't care if they move from their steadfast footing, but i want to shake people. i want them to see outside their boxes and just consider life and its possibilities and what love could look like, feel like, sound like.

am i love? do they see the love in me?

i love them. i'm overwhelmed with it. they don't have to change for a second but i love them.

the old glory nurse who's not too old. she's been there longer than any of us. she knows the unit and the people that work there like family (or at least she claims to). and as far as i'm concerned she's earned the right to leave a few things behind for the new nurse with new legs to finish up. she lives alone with her cats and seems like a man would have to have a spine of steel to come close to her. she knows everything.

next in line would be one of my favorites. she bought me a christmas present the first month i was on the unit. made sure i had a birthday cake too. occasionally she'll bring me treats from the kitchen when i tell her i'd rather she didn't with a lying tongue. i'm sure i'm the 5yearold child that won't shut up some nights but she'll laugh. she'll almost always laugh. and if she doesn't because of some stressful situation she'll make up for it a few minutes later by throwing something my way or messing up my keyboard or laughing at the way i make up my own words for things. she knows everything too. and she has shown me how to adamantly ignore the doctors and stand up for my patients, how to love them as well. she might talk big sometimes but she's one of the hardest workers and most open lovers i've seen. from what i gather she lives on a farm with her parents and goats enjoying her nephews like they were hers.

and then there's penguin. i don't know why i like that for her. she has long black hair. she watched me stumble my way through my first weeks of being on my own. oh! the questions i would ask! i bet she hated it. but she never said no to helping me. she always has her tubings changed and fresh new containers at patients bedsides, perfectly labeled in straight black letters. she's young and lives like it. free. i bet she was calmer back in the day before she lost the guy she loved. but she's such a good nurse. sometimes i feel like she's a cracked little egg i wish i could mend back together and stop what hurts.

seems like they've all sacrificed so much to love. i want to be like them.