Weirdo that I am I love the drive home on Saturday morning. No traffic. Nobody is awake when I drive home. I have the world all to myself. People who work nights tend to live in a parallel world. Although, I put my brain and body back on days if I have more than a few days off just in order to accomplish things, I work nights by choice.
I don’t play well with others and while I can handle the stimulation and the pace, I don’t respond to the human drama very well, especially at work.
I don’t do drama. I don’t hang out with dramatic people, you know the type who create it if it does not exist. When people start spinning their personal soap operas just for the purpose of self entertainment, I tune out. I know life isn’t an endless harmonic symphony and can’t be expected to be. I get enough death and heartbreak at work, I don’t need artificial doses of it. Movies would be the exception to that.
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Karmic irony. After putting in my remarks about dealing with human drama in the can I had an RN meltdown at work last night.
I had to send her home. I sat her down and suggested gently that she was overwhelmed by stress and needed to get counseling. She’s a hard working single Mom with a very small almost invisible social support network who is also dating a vet with PTSD.
Then another one grieving the passing of a cherished patient kept “dropping” in at the office to ask for help with things she did not actually need help with. My lambs were up to the task of patient care but a bit adrift as an emotional flock.
that was an abrupt ending…
here’s some albinoni for your saturday . . .
from some dramatics myself. I guess I lost a friend in the process. She is dazzled by the drama and I was just tired of it.
It couldn’t have gone any better. He was mad as hell about the surgery day of, was a bear to put under. After it was over though and we were in recovery he asked if he could get out of bed and walk around and of course the nurses told him not yet and made sure he was railed in well but everyone was giggling. They lengthened both of his rods over a centimeter which is a good bit of growth for him. We were out of the hospital about 28 hours after his surgery and in the hotel room. The fifteen year old who went after him and has done this for 12 years now and started when everyone thought his surgeons were Frankenstein was just as angry about the surgery. We speculate that because they are able to lead such normal lives except for this twice a year thing now they have the energy and mind to be really pissed about it because it really isn’t something terrific to endure once you’ve day after day of good stuff.