Strength in numbers and wisdom beyond years

This past weekend I ended up working up 12 hours both days (Saturday and yesterday). I was on my unit for the duration of the weekend, and I was given another great reminder that I work with people. Yes, they are alcoholics, addicts and are sick with a disease so very misunderstood, but first and foremost, they are people. I know I've said this before many times, but it's true. And I know sometimes I forget that. They have families, friends, children, have lost loved ones. Things I all have too, except children. Some have never been in treatment before, others have been in and out of many places a few times, including the place I work and have relapsed multiple times. Some have very supportive families; others have been ostracized from their families, friends and communities. Some know they're addicts and need help, others are reluctant to begin Step 1, which is admitting. Some have years and years of sobriety before their most recent relapse, others just came and said "I need help." Some have no withdrawal symptoms, others are rolling in bed in agony, begging for an out. I had one patient come to me yesterday and said "Kelly, I had a doctor look me in the face yesterday and say 'If you even take one more sip of a drink, you could die.' And that's it. I've had enough. I'm done."

The stories I have come in contact with, even just in this weekend alone, really have just blown me away. The sheer act of "love thy neighbor as yourself" has been even more remarkable. Only in the throes of addiction do you get to witness complete strangers helping one another out, even if it's something as simple as getting them their breakfast tray. I have seen so many atheist patients of mine act more loving and compassionate than some of my Christian brothers and sisters. Now why is that? Because they get it. They reach a level of understanding and empathy when a newcomer comes in and is sick, scared, and unsure what the next few hours, days and weeks are going to look like. It has helped me in my own walk with Christ; to put aside my own dispositions and opinions of some of the people I care for and extend a helping hand. I am ashamed to admit this, but yes, I do judge. I can't help it sometimes; I can blame it on human nature or whatever, but it's something I am doing my best to work on. When you work in this field, sometimes you get jaded and really angry, because that human nature you detest so much comes back and bites you in the rear. Because you trust someone, someone you're caring for, and when they walk out the door you know they're not going to take their sobriety and recovery seriously. It's moments like that in which I really, to be honest, hate my job.

But the positive and rewards outweigh the negative ten fold. To be a part of a program that truly does change lives is...I can't describe the overwhelming sense of joy that comes with that. To see someone come in who is sick, scared and broken and leave us whole, refreshed and healthy....again. Words fail to come to mind.  We could learn a lot from these folks, only if we're just willing. As someone says when they're finished talking in an AA meeting "that's all I've got." I'm going to sleep for a bit; working night shift tonight.