They still die




But they are better deaths. Oncology, that is. The Oncology floor nurses do a great job on the end of life situations. I am planning on a transfer to that unit, when and if, a day shift job opens up. Of course, once I submitted transfer paperwork, my boss got very complimentary about my work. It will be a hard switch for me. The meds are hellishly complicated, precisely timed. And dangerous. The kids are all bald and swollen. The hope that the kids will live is like a flock of butterflies over the unit- so many more of them do live, now. Back when I was misdiagnosed with leukemia, in the early 1980’s, it was a death sentence. Now, not so much. Lots of kids live to grow up, and isn’t that what we all want?

But lets talk about me, here, because, after all, this is a blog. I will have to learn to take vital signs only every four hours. I will have to remember to bring their food trays. I will have to get used to awake alert, and oriented as the norm and not the exception. I will have to learn that I can get off my chair at the end of the bed and that the kid will still be alive without me staring at them, their monitor, and their drips. Plus, that flock of butterflies, each one a real hope of living to grow up.

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