Sitting For More Than Safety

Sitting here at 2:00 am, the room is silent… except for the continuously beeping pump in the next room over. It seems to be the only thing in this place that doesn’t get tired.

I close my eyes and inhale the familiar germicidal aroma of the sticky hand sanitizer that I keep reapplying. I can only use it four or five times before my hands need a fresh wash in the sink. When I open my eyes, I see my patient sleeping soundly after an eventful evening. He finally calmed down and gave up fighting with me about having a cigarette.

Sometimes I wonder why… Why do I put myself through these long, silent nights? Why do I willingly sit with some of these people knowing they will likely kick me, spit on me, hit me, or curse at me? Why do I sacrifice my body for theirs?

Because of that. What I’m looking at right now. A person in need, sleeping in peace.

Whether it is drugs, alcohol, mental illness, or the gruesome effects of aging… They suffer. But when I walk into the room for my shift, I suffer. I suffer for them.

I do what I can to make them comfortable. I do what I need to, to make sure they are taken care of. I talk about life, feed them pudding, walk them to the bathroom, and help them bathe. I measure intake and output, I empty colostomy bags and foleys, I monitor vitals, and I make their bed. I document the situation every fifteen minutes and alert the nurse of any significant changes. I do what I can to keep each patient entertained. My eyes do not leave the patient, and neither does my heart until the end of my eight hour shift.

I do not leave when I have to pee. I do not leave when visitors come to visit. I do not leave when they attack me. I do not leave their side.

The twenty-something year old guy withdrawing from heroin will likely yell, scream, and hit me. The elderly woman with dementia will punch me, spit on me, and bite my arm. The suicidal mother will cry to me for an hour and then try to suffocate herself while pretending to sleep.

But it is my job to make sure these things don’t happen. It is my duty to take on the burden of their suffering and hold it on my shoulders for a while. It is my job to help them get through this scary time in their life so that they can sleep soundly at night.

I sit here so your mother can be safe. I sit here so you can sleep at home knowing your brother is being watched. I sit here, so you don’t have to worry.

Sitting in this hospital is normal for me… It’s my job. But for my patient and their family, it’s the scariest time of their life.