Thursday, November 23, 2023
As I blew out the candles on my cake, I wondered how it could possibly be that I was 50. That number seemed impossible. How had these years passed so quickly. I seemed like just yesterday I was raking leaves for Roberts and serving in the soup kitchen. Life had not been kind to me. My job was wearing on me. I felt like my body was falling apart. My family life was challenging. My kids were getting older, but they didn’t seem to care whether they saw me or not. My wife, Lord bless her, still waited up for me to get home from my shift, but she was the only one who seemed to appreciate me.
Forty hours in the ER seemed like 80 in a normal job. The nurses and doctors were all burnt out. The number of repeat offenders was increasing, and the severity of the cases was also increasing. In the past month, I lost six kids under 20 due to either overdose or peer violence. My nerves were shot, and I didn’t think I could take any more suffering. Why do people keep hurting themselves and each other? Why are we so bent on self-destruction?
The cycles of destruction flash through my mind continually. Sometimes I just wanted to turn off my brain. All I can think about are the kids I served in the soup kitchen. They are probably being taken into other ERs in the same condition as these kids I am seeing every night. Why can’t we just stop this madness?
My own issues started innocently enough; I just had a drink when I got home at night after a hard shift once in a while. Unfortunately, every night seems to be a hard shift. It’s just one drink, I rationalized. It helps me sleep and turn off my brain. My wife takes it in stride, but I think she’s worried about me.
One night as I was “unwinding” she gently approached me with a cup of tea. “Jake, I’m worried about you. These last few months have been particularly bad for you. I understand wanting to unwind after a shift, but it’s becoming more than an occasional drink. It’s more like a nightly drink or two.”
“I’m fine! You don’t know how hard it is to constantly see people tearing each other apart day after day. You don’t know what it’s like to watch a person barely old enough to drive come in day after day high on drugs. It’s just too much to process sometimes. I’ll cut back. I promise.”
“I think you should see someone. Someone who can help you work through all of the trauma. Maybe it’s time to think of a change. There are plenty of other ERs in the area who would love to have your experience that are not so damaging to your soul.”
I think she’s right, but I can’t leave now. These people need me. I’m good at what I do. I can handle it.