Untitled

I remember I was fresh out of school, fresh on the job. A novice still. It was Christmas season and the patient in room one was dying. The one closest to the nurse's station. The unit was decorated in seasonal decor. Someone had placed a musical Rudolf Reindeer on the front corner of the counter at the station. It was the first thing you saw stepping off the elevator coming into the unit. It was only a few feet away from room one. I loved squeezing Rudolf's nose to hear its jingle. You know how those things are. They are amusing or endearing at first but they can become annoying quickly. It tickled me to watch my co-workers exasperated facial expressions as the shift went on. The next day I was called into the office. I was caught by complete surprise to receive a counseling for squeezing Rudolf's nose. The family in room one complained that it was inappropriate to be in the Christmas spirit when their loved one was dying. I was prohibited from touching Rudolf to make him sing. It left me with a strange distaste for what is considered etiquette. Life didn't stop because the patient in room one was dying. Life didn't care. Neither did death that life moved on. Death never does. Not soon after, I transferred to a more critical unit. Again, a patient was dying. This time the son couldn't face the impending loss of his mother and he didn't come to see her. Finally he showed up, in the middle of the night, and unleashed all his fear and anger on me. His tantrum left me shaken and in tears. Still a novice in my profession, I managed to continue providing care for my patients despite having been completely thrown off by the man's vicious behavior. It left me wondering why people shun the gifts that come with being able to say a final goodbye. It's a gift that death doesn't offer often enough to the ones still living. A few years later a co-worker was pregnant with her first child. Such a joyous period in her life. As her mother was dying of cancer. Being the one who was closest to her mother, she took care of her throughout her pregnancy. Watching her dying while life was growing inside of her. Her mother died shortly before she gave birth to a girl. My heart ached for her but it was a beautiful reminder that life goes on. Not how we want it to be, but it does, with such eloquence and ease. When I was halfway through my schooling, my father died. It was sudden, the circumstances were dramatic, even though not that unforeseen, and it completely pulled the rug from under my feet. In my young, aspiring ways, I wanted to accomplish something that would make him proud. Never mind that one's true path should never be determined by anyone's approval but ones own. But his death left me with choices to be made. Either be (completely) consumed by it or live my life. Death didn't care what I chose. It never does. It only cares about when the time has come to get me. Life, on the other hand, does. Life always cares deeply about how we participate in it. And if you are blessed enough to realize it, so do the people who love you. ~•~ a beautiful milieu Image Thomas Campoy https://www.instagram.com/thomas_campoy/