Ambivelance in all things…
You’re not first nurse I’ve worked with. Not that I suppose you should have wondered.
Odd, disjointed thought, really, come to think of it.
The first, she died- It was difficult to work with her initially, not that it felt like work. She was very insightful, and also very kind. But just as I’d constructed me, she had constructed herself, too. We didn’t agree on everything, but the work was worth doing, and I enjoyed myself immensely. Until it happened. I realised that unlike my designs on the ward, she’d been accepting kickbacks from a pharmaceutical rep.
But that wasn’t the worst of it. She didn’t know I’d had run -ins with that particular rep. before… She didn’t understand who she was dealing with. He didn’t give a damn about the patience or the word- He was the bottom line; a bottom-feeder, and not to be trusted. Evil and hatred incarnate.
But worse than that, I was suddenly impacted by fears that while she and I had been working together on the ward, he may have always been listening in… And suddenly I didn’t trust a word of any conversation and discussion we’d ever shared…
But there wasn’t time for that…
I was struggling for air- throat tightening. Had she given me something… When I wasn’t looking?
In the fog, I was impacted with fear again.
I was in the parking-lot of a building I wasn’t sure I recognised, or how I’d gotten there.
But she was nowhere to be found.
Before Long I was back on the ward- she wasn’t there either. I asked one of my colleagues, but between us, we couldn’t figure out where she might have gone.
The second left- she landed on the ward like a perfect storm- poised to show me how I could be making the ward more efficient- which I took as an aside to mean it’s not efficient enough. But more than that. She was new age, and oldskool. Quirky in all the worst ways, and professional in all the best- I couldn’t stand it.
Rather than work with her, find the middle ground, I tried everything I could to keep the ward ideal- for me, whether it meant being under-handed, or overreaching, because I knew the ward like the back of my hand- everything was just the way I liked it. And every time she challenged me, I pretended I couldn’t see the pearls in her wisdom.
But even though she had grown on me over time and I could feel something in and around the ward that was definetly new age, and quirky, not oldskool and professional (stuffy! – basically), I’d ignored the dejection she must of felt.
Every time I refused to meet her halfway.
We were colleagues. We could never be friends.
Maybe that’s why I’m being so professional now. I have no faith in my abilty to be more than your colleague. Which is why I leave you to (why lie?) run the ward. You’re good at what you do.
I’m no friend to the ward anymore…
I guess you had to be there…
Alas, I digress.
‘Hell yes!’ – anonymous