Now or Never...It's My Life

I find myself tonight in a well appointed king room at the Marriott, successfully completing day two of my new job.  My new job.  Yeah about that.  I have been a nurse practitioner for 18 years, and was a nurse for 8 years before that.  I suppose you could throw me into the "adrenaline junkie" professional category.  As a nurse, I spent a good portion of those years in the emergency room.  When I finished my masters to be an NP, I jumped into neurosurgery for ten years.  Brain tumors, aneurysms, spinal fractures, complex neurological problems.  I found myself closing skulls at 3:00 in the morning following big traumas, and holding my breath as the clock ticked away while doc put a clip on a brain aneurysm as quickly as possible so we could reestablish flow and avoid brain injury.  From there, I would make the leap to emergency medicine as an NP.  Cardiac arrests, crazy traumas, and even baby deliveries in the front seat of a car parked outside. 

Through it all, I suppose I just enjoyed the rush of the emergencies and the satisfaction of solving difficult puzzles that embodied the complex patient.  Which is why as I sit here, post 12 hour day, in my urgent care scrubs, it all seems a bit surreal.  I moonlight in another system of three urgent cares. I always said I would not do it full time.  It felt like it was a professional step backwards, yet here I am contract signed, full time urgent care  The decision was financially driven as well as having more time for my family and to take the giant leap and bet on my motivational business and my foundation to define my adult professional self rather than a 26 year ever advancing career in medicine.  As I ponder all of this over my container of naked chicken tenders, tunes playing, classic Bon Jovi would fill my room. 

"This ain't a song for the broken hearted,

no silent prayer for the faith-departed"

Not a song for the broken hearted?  Maybe I should skip this one.  Giving up what I know and love so well to forge into the unknown had it's own grieving process.  What was I going to do without the adrenaline rush of trauma or the solving of a difficult medical puzzle?  How was I going to stay fulfilled professionally??  What if I got bored putting bandaids on in the urgent care, or my foundation did not grow the way I had hoped?  Reflecting on this, I suppose in some ways I really am a bit faith departed in this moment.

"This is for the ones that stood their ground,

It's for Tommy and Gina who never backed down"

Standing my ground is something I have become proficient at as a provider.  I can fend off the drug seekers without even a single dose of medication and have learned to always keep myself between the patient and the door for those patients who feel it is necessary to come at me physically when the answer is no.  I have learned to navigate the back halls of any ER to avoid the drunken marriage proposals of the regulars, and which of the said regulars would require chemical and/or physical restraint to keep the rest of the staff out of the line of fire of flying fists and the uncontrolled spewing of various bodily fluids.  There was the compartmentalization of emotion necessary for the time spent with families who suddenly lost a loved one you had five minutes previously done chest compressions on.  Yessir.  Eight years in this environment on the heels of ten years of neurosurgery, I pretty much knew all the tricks of the trade.

"Tomorrow's getting harder, make no mistake,

Luck ain't enough,

You've got to make your own breaks"

For the last two years, I have been working in two emergency rooms and three urgent cares for more than full time hours.  Countless hours of work, with limited sleep due to crazy shifts and home demands, as my brain could not loosen the reigns on my professional career to consider doing something different, with a denial of the fact that it just may be getting harder. The cumulative trauma of death and abuse just may be having an effect after all of these years.  Maybe it is time to think about making my own break. Maybe lowering patient acuity in a high end urgent care is not so bad.  After all, my new gig had beautifully appointed facilities, a keurig for coffee on demand, and even snacks. 

"It's my life,

And it's now or never,

I ain't gonna live forever,

I just want to live while I'm alive."

Transition is never something I have been particularly good at.  As destructive as it was, there was even a comfort in my 45 years of obesity.  I filled a role for others, I was good at it, and I was comfortable.  I knew how to do that just like I know how to be a nurse practitioner and so many other things.  I deluded myself to believe there was total satisfaction in these comfortable places.  However, I am coming to see that what really exists in those places is not the actual ignition of spirit, rather the same old drunks in the corner spewing unknown bodily fluids, and a partial death of emotion when the compartment it was getting shoved into suddenly gets so full it busts right open.  Real growth in spirit just may exist in taking risks, shoving away a fear of failure, grabbing life by the balls and moving in all new ways.  So here I sit in my royal blue scrubs, preparing to change into my own logo and get to work motivating my 320 sharks, and start the process of letting loose of the 26 year career that has defined my adult professional self, to bet on me, something I have never been brave enough to do until now.  Yes, there is a part of my brain that is afraid I will fall directly on my face and find myself only putting bandaids on until the end of time, but there is a bigger part terrified that I will stay in my comfort zone and absolutely never know.  Either way, win or lose I will know:

"I did it my way,

I just want to live while I'm alive."

So, thank you Mr. Bon Jovi for the subtle reminder that it is entirely possible that the best is yet to come.