Yes, it's insulting to be on the receiving end of
that person,
that nurse,
that nurse supervisor.
No one ever wants to be that person's friend.
Yes, I am aware that nursing is really stressful
and expecting perfection is even more stressful.
Yes, it's terrifying, the thought of lawsuits--
which is another problem altogether--
but a child died.
A child died.
Because somewhere a mistake happened.
And it shouldn't happen again.
And this is why I practice, again and again and again.
And I challenge the standard of care.
(Yes, the air is filled with bacteria.
Yes, we do these procedures at the bedside.
Maybe we shouldn't anymore.)
It's why I have no life.
It's why I don't go to parties,
or to dinners,
or to movies.
It's why I study like knowledge is an addiction.
And never take a vacation.
And cry over my failures, and analyze my work
again and again and again
when I am at home in my bed,
when I should be sleeping.
I keep wondering is there something...
or was there something...
...else I can do or could have done?
Did I execute that skill to perfection?
What can I do to make it more perfect?
No, I'm not saying that that's healthy.
Surely, that's why I have insomnia,
and why I have no romantic relationships.
I'm not saying that this is the best way to be a nurse.
But when I hear that a child has died from a central line infection--
it drives me to be ever the more precise,
ever the more militant,
ever the more conscious.
I have zero tolerance for my mistakes.
Because there are already too many mistakes being made.
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