and I’ll say it again. I am much too soft-hearted to be a nurse. So many things that I come into contact with on a daily basis makes me want to weep and scream at the injustice of life.
I am supposed to simply speak to people and let them know that they are not just a patient, but it isn’t that simple. They are people to me.
They are my mother.
They are my father.
They are my daughter, nieces and sister.
They become part of my heart and being and I take them home with me.
I have cried many, many tears for those that I visit with. I have held their hands, held their family’s hands and prayed with them. I try to leave them where they are, but they won’t stay there.
They come home with me. I think about them and hope that they will live until morning; hope that if they don’t, their sons, daughters, mothers and fathers will be able to cope with loss of their existence.
I want to be strong. I will myself to be stoic and unattached, but that lasts as long as the mist under a strong morning sunrise. I love these people. I fall in love with their families and I feel the pain, sorrow and devastation of their loss on every front.
The older I get, the more squeamish, melancholic and dramatic I become. I surely thought that I would be stronger and more able to control my emotions at this point, but the truth is that I am more susceptible to emotion and empathy than I ever thought possible.
Sometimes, things happen that are funny and yet, the humor battles sorrow for there is nothing beautiful or funny about someone who doesn’t know who they are or where they are or what they have accomplished in their lives. The emptiness is devastating. I find myself bringing people home with me in my thoughts and crying over their infirmities.
I never wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to be a photographer. I wonder sometimes if I don’t make a better nurse than a photographer. And then I realize that I can be both.
One makes me a better of the other.
I photograph for the sheer pleasure of it and yet, when photographs are forbidden, I see past what is present. I am thankful, on many levels, for the blessings bestowed upon me.
I am a nurse.
I am a photographer.
I am myself.
I am content.
What more can anyone ask than to be content in the life they are living.
I am, above all things, thankful, for the joys, the trials, the triumphs and the the lessons. Thankful for the things that hurt me and those that bring me joy.
One without the other is insubstantial; combined, they are powerful beyond the description of words.
I. Am. Blessed.
And I am thankful. The images, whether in real time or captured on film are what life is about. Life is images and images make up life.
Again I say, I. Am. Blessed.