Arthur

Part of my problem was I was having a sort of occupational identity crisis. Any of you who are nurses or in healthcare will probably understand this. I was very upset when I found out I wasn't going back to county, I felt like I belonged there. Found myself working registry, a different place every night, and working med/surg. I felt out of my element. Then had one of those nights that make you wonder why the fuck you ever went to nursing school, one of those nights that make you question all of your skills and really throw you. We all have them, I just didn't react very well this time. I was the complete definition of Burn Out. And that horrible feeling of hating your job, but knowing you are stuck doing it for the rest of your life cause I don't know how to do anything else that pays enough to live on. Complete burn out and that trapped feeling.

Very tired of caring for people that didn't care about themselves. If you don't care, why do I? People that have abused their bodies or been stupid their whole lives, then when it stops working are mean and bitter and hateful. People who you have to wake up to give their pain pills to - cause they are in "so much pain." People who have destroyed their bodies, then are angry cause you can't fix it. I had had enough.

Then out of the blue my agency asks me if I like a kind of different assignment. Caring for a little two year old who drowned in the family pool. Well, nearly drowned. In the pool long enough to take his mind, his purposeful control, his personality - but not long enough to spare him a life of vegetative hell. And they told me it was a middle eastern family. I was hesitant, but decided to do it.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm going to call him Arthur. Arthur is this beautiful child. This perfect, beautiful child, with only his shell left - he breathes, and his heart beats but thats about it. He is fed through a stomach tube and has no ability to move anything purposefully, to eat, to turn over, to blink, or to even make a sound. He can't see me, or communicate, or enjoy anything. And he will never get any better. Ever. Ever.

He is beautiful. He has my Ryan's eyes. I do all his medical stuff - meds, breathing treatments, caring for him. And I hold him. And talk to him.

I was hired because his other care giver moved away. His mom has a month old baby, a fresh c-section incision, and a very active independent 4 year old. Yeah, my life's not so bad.

Arthur has given me a break. None of this is his fault. He needs so much. And it is so unfair. I've been revitalized a little. He is easy for me to take care of.

I see the pictures of him up on the walls - before the "accident". I see the guilt in his mother's eyes. I see the other children in the house play around him. I hear his dad talk of a miracle doctor they are going to go to. I hear hope in all of their voices. And I am quiet. Because I know too much.

When 9/11 happened. I hated the middle east. Their entire population was not worth even one of our soldiers. My solution was to nuke them. Royce and I had many heated discussions over this. Nuke em. I didn't care if there were women and children. The children are just baby terrorists who will grow up to hate us and try to kill us. Not worth it. Nuke em. Its that easy. Big problem gone. You fuck with us, you deserve it.

She makes me food everyday. Things I've never had before. Its delicious. The other children are beautiful. They sleep like my children, and fight like my children, and play and laugh and live like my children. The husband and wife tease each other and play. The family all takes care of little Arthur. They all have jobs and live in a home I could never afford. They are kind and loving, and beautiful people. And the language is so beautiful.

These are the people I would have nuked. These children. I look into their little eyes and watch them play and sleep - and I am ashamed. I am truly truly ashamed. And humbled.

I have found that hate is the easy way. Its easier to hate than it is to fear, so we hate. Its easier to listen to and swallow whatever the masses bombard you with - its easier to justify your fear with hate - than it is to learn. To walk a mile in someone's shoes. We really are all just people. The problem isn't as simple as I thought it was, and the answer is much less simple than I felt.

I don't hate them anymore.

It also reaffirms how I feel about the christian god. That all loving all powerful being in the sky somewhere. No all powerful god of LOVE would allow anything like this to happen, And if he did ................. I wouldn't want to follow someone like that.

I am walking away from this assignment with so much more than I contributed to it.

Funny how that works, when you let it.