good charge nurse

I survived my first shift in charge all by myself. It was slightly hectic, as only caring for forty patients, six nurses and the odd extra baby can be, but I'm happy to report that everyone is alive and accounted for. Only one lady got diagnosed with typhoid, so I think, altogether, it was a pretty successful shift despite the eight hours of nearly nonstop fire-dousing.

My favourite moment of the day came when I returned to my pediatric heaven (B Ward) after dealing with the latest crisis on A Ward. I sat down at the desk to update the census on the computer and briefly considered handing in my resignation. Maybe I'm really just cut out to be an ICU nurse, I thought, in charge of myself and my one patient, blissfully unaware of what's going on in the rest of whatever hospital I happen to be in. I just wasn't convinced I was getting it right.

At which point three little kids in matching, bright blue and green frog-printed dressing gowns sidled up to my chair. One after another they gave me the lopsided, one-armed hugs of the recently-reconstructed burn patient. Their faces squished flat against my cheek as they kissed me soundly and proclaimed You are a good charge nurse. I love you very much.

My roommate, Rachel, looked up from where she was charting at the end of the counter. Her eyes met mine, and she turned back to her paperwork, hiding a conspiratorial grin.

I'm glad I have a roommate who loves me, and I'm even more glad that right down the hall is a ward full of Liberian kids who will greet me in the morning with kisses and hugs and shrieks of Auntie Alice! See mah stickah! Because I love them. Very much.