Things started off innocently enough, then there's an incident on Saturday, yes, I did not manage to post it up back then cause I was beaned. I was returning the appointment book to the respective department when the two senior girls asked whether I'm happy working in an outpatient department. Is that a trick question? "Of course I do, the place here is wonderful, I get to meet doctors, some really nice ones, and I have wonderful supportive friends who had helped me." Then, comes the bombshell.
"Do you want to go back to your old department?"
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"Are you okay? Your face is really white, like someone had sucked out all your blood..."
I swear, my heart seemed to have dropped all the way into my stomach.
Go...back...there?
"We're not forcing you or anything, but it's just that there were some...incidents going on, that's why we are asking you whether you want to go back there."
Oh... Going back to the place where I worked at means staying with one doctor, and handling the few little cases, but is it worth it? I suffered depression from there, attempted self-harm and self-loathing, and very nearly gave up on being a nurse. I was shifted from here and there, absolutely lost til I went to the place where I am now. Where the people there had brought me back on track, the doctors, especially a few, supported me. My friends at that department, supported each other, got each other's back, like that song :
Our paths, they did cross,
Though I cannot say just why,
We met, we laughed, we held on fast,
And then we say goodbye.
And who'll hear the echoes of stories never told?
Let them ring out till they unfold.
Even when we were busy, get yelled at by rude patients, we still stick together. I dubbed us the Three Musketeers since there are three of us (nurses, I mean), which they accepted as an endearing term. And to be really frank, even if I were to go back, what can I achieve? I know my condition, I got nothing against the people, but it's more like the environment is not right for me. I can try, and try til I break, but I'll never be able to fit in there. Yes, it's a small place that focuses only on certain procedures, but I'll be miserable. I won't be able to be with my friends and my doctors. I'm not willing to give it all up. My department is big, true, with all sorts of doctors to handle, and all sorts of funny procedures, but I was happy. Truly happy to find a place where I belonged. They knew that I wrote novels as a second job and they were proud of me, even giving me inputs on some ideas. I had to go for my psychiatrist's appointment when the time comes, and they were accepting of me, instead of shunning me as though I am a pariah. Especially the surgeon whom I assisted, he had seen me going for my appointment and he had been supportive, always telling me not to stress, not to get upset, but to let him know if I'm having difficulty. If I had been there, I would've never met him, or any other doctors, of all types.
When I got back after a long while, they asked me where had I been. Never one to hide anything from them, I told them the issue. They were actually outraged, for me. "Who do they think they are? When she was depressed, they had to throw her out. Now that we had mold her back to normal,. they think they can just waltz in and take her back just because of their incidents?" I nearly burst into tears, because they had accepted me as part of them from the time I joined in, even when there were rumors of me going around, about how I am insane. Outraged that they said if they dared to come, they will set the few doctors that I am closed with on them. I assured them that they didn't have to do that, because I had politely told the senior girls that I refused the offer, not that I still hold hatred against my old department, but because there are just some places where I just don't belong to, no matter how much I tried. Like that old saying that goes: If the shoes fits, something like that, I really can't remember how it goes.
I learned a really weird procedure today.
Nope, you did not read it wrong. It does read Buddy Splint. God knows, the doctor yelled at me because of the cotton balls. He wanted the old ones, the fuzzy kind, not the gauze type. No matter how much I told him that we've been using it from last year and most of our doctors love it, he was like, "Get me the freaking cotton balls NOW!!!" Fortunately, my patient was a CI for the hospital and she said, "Doctor, there really is no more of those kinds." And he kept looking at me as though it's my fault. Ahhhhh, please don't eat me. In the end, he shoved the cotton balls into my hand, fixed the splint, and walked off. Whew. The CI confirmed with me that there's no more of those cotton balls and I apologized non-stop, and said perhaps outside are still selling the old types, which she thanked me and assured to splint her toes.
I asked my friend why is it called a buddy splint, and she showed me by putting two fingers together, side by side. "Two together, right? BFF, That's why they are buddies."
Oh.... OH....
I drew the toes together like she mentioned. And yes, you can apply it for your toes and fingers, as long as you have a pair.
Over and out. With more to come.
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