So I thought I was getting in trouble today at work. I learned of it on Saturday night, after I was out all morning, afternoon, and evening with my mother and my sister, showing them around Manhattan. One email, and the next few days are thrown into turmoil.
I am very good at my job. I handle the pressure well, the deadlines, projects, customer service, and I work well with my team. I take it very seriously, and understand what our patients go through. I have seen the faces of people who have died from cancer, perfect strangers I've met once or twice, only to get a call a few weeks later from the concerned daughter I also met, saying that mom finally couldn't fight anymore. I have heard someone say to me, "I know I'm dying, please help me." These are things I face everyday, and while I don't look for sympathy from others who may work in different arenas, it is a heavy nametag to wear everyday, but one that is very worthwhile for me. And the hardest thing to do here is face the music when there are errors that could affect patients.
Thank God nothing I did or anyone here adversely affected a patient's treatment, but needless to say, I've been walking around on pins and needles awaiting impending doom from a supervisor or the doctor I work for. I could not eat or sleep.
I hate feeling like my livelihood is threatened, so nervous that the only thing that helps is praying the rosary. I must have prayed it three times this morning, with each time it helping less and less. I feel bad for reaching out to God only when I need something; I had wished to avoid that in these past few months. I worked so hard in Lent to figure out who I am, and how it fits in with who God is, and what He asks of me. I can't just forget that those months happened.
But, with one conversation with an understanding mind, I am at peace again. We addressed the problem, took note of the way it may have gotten to this point, and made proper steps to ensure it never happens again. My doctor was understanding, genuine, and direct. I could not have asked for anything more.
My mom and Lynn visited this weekend, and I really miss them now that they've gone home. We went to Battery Park, WTC, TriBeCa, Canal St. Little Italy, Times Square, Rockafeller Center, St. Pat's, F.A.O. Schwartz, Cabanna, and Central Park, and more. Twelve hours of straight walking, must have been 10 miles or so. It ended with my mom and I sitting on a bench in the park, watching the Swans float just above the water as the sun set in our view looking west, as Lynn and her friend were returning from a walk. I usually don't do this sort of thing, but I had to take a picture with all of us there, it was a special moment.
So through all the angst and worry, I now feel exhausted. My heart and body function almost too well at a hightened state of alert, and once that subsides, I crash hard. I crave a home-cooked meal today, followed by a night playing music in my room, singing till my lungs ache. Singing all the songs that make me happy to be alive. To play music out of love.
"When two souls meet in the city / half of the world forgets we're all still spinning 'round" An occasion, indeed.
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