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19 October There but for the Grace of God go I.I'm at work.
it's 1.52 am.
I work a rotation of 4 days on and then 2 days off...4 on , 2 off , 4 on , 2 off. And so on and so on ....get the idea? Tonight, I pulled the gravey. Its quiet. Im up at a desk that is posted between the female and the male dorms. Here if they need me to talk to or just for a glass of warm milk. but mostley they are sleeping. Some more soundly than others. Some naturally nodded off and some with the aide of medical science.
I am on-call. I havent had a regular posting for 2 and a half years. I like it though, working on-call. I work wherever they they need relief, it gives my job veriety. I,ve worked every ward in the hospital. Its a good job. It sure has made me a more outgoing person. Having to be able to go to any ward, with an hours notice and fall into step as though I work there all the time. If a person werent confident, or at least good at pretending they were, this clientel and even some of the staff, would chew you into tiny pieces. I have to be able to enter any ward as though I belong there. Join in with conversations, help myself to the coffee, contribute my astute observations at report time. If i seem confident, then my patients trust that I know what I am doing, and so do the regular staff.
Working here has made me a better person. Not only has it made me more confident, it has opened my eyes. Made me less judgemental. As a young woman, I always set high standards for myself and expected the same effort from others too. Over the last six years I have seen indescribable suffering, loss of quality of life, loss of freedoms and privilages, I have witnessed the most futile existances. I have seen what rock bottom can look like. It has made my expectations of people less severe. I realize how every person has a different level of functioning. Varying levels of coping. What one person can easily bear, the next guy may buckle under. What one person can deal with and file away as an experience, can be the thing that haunts another. What one person can brush off, may cling to the delicate psyche of another. So now I just encourage peaople to do their best.
I am so greatful for my time in this job, and all the gifts it has given me. My eyes and heart have been opened to the suffering and anguish of those less able to bear the every day burdens and crisis that i seem to endure more easily. I dont believe that I am stronger or better. I have learned to accept that each person is a unique individual. It is not my place to say what someone should be able to endure or cope with. And if they cant... that doesnt mean they are weak or less capable. Just as some people have a higher tolerance to physical pain, some have a higher tolerance to emotional or mental burdens.
I did my six week preceptorship in a Downtown Eastside Clinic in Vancouver (the ghetto/skid row/ blood alley). While there, I worked with the street people, heroin/crack addicts, hookers, and extreme poverty. As I would walk from the train early each day, I would literaly have to step over the people sleeping on the curb. Dodge the streams of urine trickling from the doorways of not yet opened shops. Hedge around the explosive drug-dealer/pimp arguments. It is a very sad place, especially this early before the businesses open their doors. Walking along around me, were the other train passengers, on the way to their high rise offices, restraunts, meetings. Most were imaculately dressed, with their shiney shoes and leather briefcases, coordinated with their nice warm over coats. The contrasts of the lives in this area is appalling, fascinating, gut wrenching. I dont begrudge the well groomed business person their finery, after all they come out Monday to Friday to earn the money to pay for it. What did bother me, was the way many of these folks could look right through another human being with out even seeing him. Or worse, that look of frightened revolt, when a beggar would politely hold his grimey hands out for what pitance he could gain. Sometimes I think "There but for the Grace of God go I". There are an estimated 3000 homeless in Vancouver. I realize it is impossible to give something to every hand thrust at you. But at least Look that PERSON in the eyes and tell him "Sorry man". It doesnt happen often , but when one of these folk look you back in the eye and return your smile and say "Thanks any way". You know they are thanking you for aknowledging their existance.
Of course many of these street people are the victims of drugs, alcohol or mental illness. Maybe some have brought it upon them selves, thru unwise choices and lack of dicipline. Would anyone in their right mind really chose to live that way. I dont believe so. But somewhere along the way, did their families, friends , etc. gave up on them. And when that happens , people really give up on them selves. As long as there is someone to love you, you can still keep trying. One day at a time it may be. The luckier ones, know that God loves them, even if they feel nobody else does.
Many of my clients here at this psychiatric faucility, have lived on the streets, when their illness took them so far down. Is it any wonder that some dont wish to be discharged? The fear of knowing that only a couple of wrong turns and the street corner or fleabag hotel could be their next accomodation.
As the wet weather is now upon us and soon winter, my heart goes out to those who are trying to get some sleep tonight with out the comfort of a warm dry bed.
I know I am rambling, and this is getting long. It is now 3:30 am. Thanks for keeping me company on this quiet night shift. Comments (6)
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