Lids

We have friends who wear hats nearly all the time. This is fine, of course. But Dylan and I remove our hats when we enter a building, a synchronized dance.

I didn't used to, quite the opposite. Attending mass meant wearing something on my head, at least when I was small. My mother stopped wearing a hat in church at the first loophole. I can't tidy up the house without winding up with something on my head.

But I clearly relive the first time I had to report to some guy in a building in Basic. It looked like a public building, and I assumed I'd be going down a hall to a door, so I just opened the external door and walked in. BIG mistake. The two NCOs sitting at the desk looked at me in a professional rage. The NCO explained to me, loudly, that I needed to knock, wait for permission, remove my hat, then enter, stand at attention, and await further permission to speak. This was delivered in a voice that stimulated adrenaline.

"Go out. Try again."

I followed the instructions precisely, shaking away my previous assumptions. I think this may have been in the first week or two. This was a different world with different rules, and I'd just stepped in one.

Whenever I go through a doorway into a building, I at least think about taking off my hat, and often simply do it without thought.


Last night Eleanor slept between our hips and Zeppo between our ankles. At some point, Zeppo stood on me, Dylan shifted, so Zeppo turned and stood on both of us, back paws on my chest, front paws on Dylan's. This morning, both cats again, snuggled and purring. Last evening, Zeppo trilled around our friends, as Eleanor walked on them. He even got to the top of the cat tree, in full view, but safe. He's coming around, his curiosity slowly wearing away the wariness.


My own exhaustion is ebbing so slowly. And I had three episodes of feeling like a Good Nurse in the past week. Two with local anesthetic only cases on the last two Fridays. The first one I sat with, he had an insulin pump, and near the end of the procedure asked for juice. First time I've gotten juice for a patient mid surgery, but I did it with no fuss, knew what to do and how to do it.

This Friday a trans woman, and her pre-op RN referred to her as "He", so I stopped and asked for the right pronouns, in case pre-op RN had been told something different than I was seeing. In this case I was right, and we had a nice chat waiting for the surgeon to show up. She had another nurse to sit at her head during the surgery, but I did a few spot checks. It was also good to hear her stories about her family, who supported her.

The third thing was holding a patient getting a spinal. They sit on the OR bed with their legs off to one side, with a padded tray to lean on, and someone in front to keep them steady and relay messages.


(I keep them more covered than this. I've also had spinal injections for my herniated discs, so I know how it feels.)


She was very tolerant, but it was a difficult stick, going on a while. She grimaced, and I asked what hurt.

"My neck."

Ok, well, I know what to do here. As I stood in front of her, I just started massaging her neck. When the spinal went in, she told us she thought we'd been very fast, she was so relaxed getting her sore neck rubbed.

So, yeah, the cure for burn-out is a few less hours and a bit more effort. Really digging deep into doing my job well, not for praise, but to know I'm doing the right thing and being effective.