“Mommy why do you have to go?”
That sentence comes out of my 3 year olds pouty lips as he’s gently tugging on my black scrub bottoms.
He cries when I put on my scrubs. He knows I’m leaving again. He doesn’t understand why.
He doesn’t understand there are patients who don’t even know they will become a patient today who need me.
He doesn’t understand that there are people waking up this morning who are going about their morning routine as if they aren’t going to get tboned and airlifted on their way to work.
He doesn’t understand that a mother is waking up to find her teenage son on the brink of death from an overdose in an attempt to take his own life.
He doesn’t understand a woman is unknowingly about to become a widow today and right now she’s having coffee with her husband.
He doesn’t understand that they need me.
To hold their emesis bag and hold their hands
To give life saving medications and hand out band aids
To give compressions until I’m out of breath and wait with a patient as they take their last
They need me. And he needs me. And he doesn’t understand.
“With loyalty will I devote myself to the welfare of those committed to my care”
“One more night and I’ll be home with you” my voice quivers through choked down tears.
I want so badly to be the mom he needs me to be.
I give him a hug and a kiss.
Despite his protest I’ll take my coffee and head to work.
And I’ll spend my shift wondering who really needs me more.