For love or duty

I think that there are jobs that you love in the sense that you look forward to going to work each morning and jobs that you love but... have just the slightest feeling of impending doom each time you drive to work. I can honestly say I love my job. There isn't any other place I could see myself at this point in my life than the noisey, chaotic churning of humanity that is the ER. Yet at the same time, I don't think I could honestly say I ever look forward to going.

My quick drive to work is my prepping session. I try to vamp myself up for whatever unknown is around the corner. I make my ritualistic plea to God to help me do the best I can, not screw anything up, and not get more than I can handle. I pray for skill, for patience, and for compassion.

I gauge the fullness of the parking lot as I pull in to try and get a feel for what possibly awaits on the other side of those sliding glass doors. Not much parking... three ambulances blocking the view of the doors... not a great sign. So what will it be tonight... Steady? Crazy? Pure unadulterated chaos?

I slide my badge through the electronic reader at the doors to our trauma bay and they slide open with a click. I'm greeted by the familiar pulse of fluorescent lighting and din of voices punctuated by monitor alarms and the ring of the base station phone. Paramedics are sliding someone strapped to a backboard with a cervical collar around their neck onto one of our hallway gurneys. Somewhere in the background someone is screaming obscenities at the top of their lungs.

Welcome to my world...