Wooden Nickels

Tapped into a new and surprising emotion tonight at work. It was spurred on by having to work with a Resident who did not do very well by Ava.

Of course I knew I could wind up dealing with her at some point as she is a Resident through my hospital.

Out of the blue I got the call. She gave me the run down, I don't think she knew it was me.

I schlepped down to the ED to meet with the family. There she was. I stood right next to her and she didn't even acknowledge me.

I met with the family and did what I do best.

On my long walk back to the office (the hospital I work in is B-I-G) my mind twisted and turned. I kept trying to come up with the perfect phrase that would sum up all of our past interactions so it would be ready for the next time.

I thankfully was able to talk to my brother, a habitual night owl. I realized that I am just so flat out angry about some flagrant stupidity and lack of care that the feeling is hollow and hurt.

My Mom usually says that she is so angry that she could spit wooden nickels. I always thought that that was a dumb phrase, but I have to admit that I thought it so many times while we were at the Hospital. For some reason it really works for me. Right now I wonder if I could breathe fire.

She's been at my hospital for 2 years. Tonight I work with her. God needed me to see her. I get that. Now I just don't know what to do with it. How can you tell someone who doesn't care, "How dare you"? I would love to put three people in a room and explain to them what they have done and how inappropriate is was and continues to be. But it would do no good. The reality is that that is why I am so marred. I am appalled that the human condition is one that can be so conceited that one can't hear or listen to what is wrong. There is no responsibility taken and now we get to wonder what could have happened. While they practice medicine unscathed.

There needs to be some intentional change that comes from our experiences. It will have to be small as the change that is required is systemic and institutionally biased. One step at a time. Maybe one physician can learn how to practice with humility and a listening ear.

I can take great comfort in the fact that I am not responsible for their actions and their interactions in this world. I know that Jesus would forgive them, and I know that I must. I know that I will have to pray hard about that and pray for them too. It will be long and slow, but I know it will happen. I can't let the anger eat me alive. What does that serve? It will be a hard road I know that too. Forgiveness is necessary, but not so easy.

Realistically, what I am referring to is for the saftey of other patients as well, not just me blowing off steam because I got hit between the eyes tonight.

I do sincerely hope that the Joy-Hope Foundation will one day have enough behind it so that we can adequately advocate for other children with no voice. I write this sentiment from a sincere heart, not out of anger.