I shouldn't be writing, I'm not in the greatest of moods. I've taken quite a beating today, twice to be exact, and I'm about done.
I was flipping through the local paper and in the back where the obituaries are listed, which I'll usually scan because I'll see patient's names. Today I saw two. And I cried. Today marks the first day I cried for one of my patients. It took almost 4.5 years. I'm not sure why now; their age struck me most. They're young, in their 50's and 60's. My interactions with them were brief, but I'd try to speak to them when delivering their meal all the same, taking a minute or two regardless of my rush, to try to connect. For their sake more than mine I'd tell myself, but perhaps it's me it has affected more. Then I start having a hundred questions run thought my head, "Was I enough?" "Did my small interaction help them feel comforted, acknowledged, important?" "Am I doing enough to be an instrument in His plan?" Not because I'm looking to feed my pride, but because I wanted their stay and their comfort the best it could be in that situation. Some days I get frustrated, some days I get 'I-don't-care-ish', and I hope that was never transferred to them. I do my best to leave my, 'I'm-having-a-shitty-day-and-I-hate-my-job' mentality at the door (before I walk in their room). They don't need to know I'm unhappy, so on the smile goes. Anyways, I won't go on; perhaps that was an attempt at self-consolation.
So, I'll be taking it easy tonight. My new-found Doctor Who fascination will have to wait and I'll watch him tomorrow instead. Today I'm gonna chill and do some self-care.