Blood

Sometimes I think that I have a very peculiar job. Perhaps its not really all that strange in reality, but there are times I can't help but stop and think, 'How the hell did I manage to find myself doing this?' The human body holds from 8-12 pints of blood (higher end for men, lower end for women), and I have carried that much in baggies down the stairs on a busy day. I pull it from people who are too high in iron, and infuse it into people too low. I draw it out for labs and have my gloved hands covered in it during central line insertions. I constantly evaluate veins and puncture them with increasing success. More blood. Everywhere I turn and everything I do seems to revolve around it. Considering just how much I used to recoil at even conceptualizing it, I often think it is such a queer turn of events that has led me to a specific part of a profession which has me around it almost constantly. I no longer see it as anything other than any other fluid, though I am consistently amazed at the variations of viscosity and hue. Now, if I could only being to feel that way about fecal matter. Somehow I doubt it.

things are settling at work. Well, I am acclimating anyway. Perspective is a beautiful thing and, sadly, a number of my co-workers are having far rougher goes of it than I was. Work is work and you can get away from it, but personal turmoil follows you. I wish them the best as they deal with their separate situations. I have just decided to embrace the cart and all that comes with it, from the difficult starts to the always unpredictable PICC lines. The clinic is easier, and often more predictable, but I will do what I have to until the next challenge presents itself, and try to do so with as little grumbling as I can manage.

I am off to enjoy a day without work. Not a hard thing to do I admit.