Musings by The Poet Loriet

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Forced Exit

*Note~I work for an OB/GYN doctor as his nurse~not just any doctor-*the best* in our whole city! He was always my favorite doctor when I worked on the maternity floor. I always wondered why all of his patients loved him so much. Not one unkind word was ever said about him. So, when it came time to start my family, he became my doctor. I had very difficult pregnancies and he treated me with tenderness and compassion. He made me laugh and kept my spirits up. I was on bedrest as I was too weak to get out of bed. I lost fifty pounds, and existed on a central line to give me I.V. fluids and a feeding tube to pump nutrients into my body. I had to take medications for preterm labor and had constant gallbladder attacks, but he didn't want to operate until after the baby was born. I don't think I could have made it through that time without his compassion and gentle humor.
We always had a special bond. I went to work as his office nurse and he's been so much more than a boss. He's become my friend, my mentor, and as he often jokes with our patients~my second "dad". The other nurse in our office is his daughter, but he tells people I'm his adopted daughter~smile~.
He's been in practice almost 40 years and had delivered over 14,000 babies. Every day, tearful letters and phone calls re: his retirement pour in. It's been bittersweet because the University that owns his practice is forcing him to retire, says that our practice isn't bringing in enough money. Medicine, like everything else, has become a business. Isn't it sad that it has to always be "about the money"?
These are thoughts I had after I packed up my things from the office...

~~designed by Aina~~

Today was not an easy day.
I left the best job
that I have ever had
with a crate
full of memories.

My kids pictures from
the past five years that
had hung above my desk,
everything from my
kindergarten Brownie troop
that we kidnapped to
take to McDonalds in
their pajamas to
my daughter's
fifth grade picture.

Everything from my son's
pink and green polka-dot snake
he drew when he was in the office
with a winter flu-bug to
the hot wheel ambulance
he gave me to remind me
of him when I was
away at work.

My boss gave me the
pictures I used to send him
at Christmas, my kids in
elf costumes or posing
as sweet angels.
He delivered my children,
kept me alive during
very traumatic pregnancies.

I took my scented hand lotions,
candy trays that we bought
to fill for our patients,
holiday decorations we
put up with much fanfare
as we tried to make
our office feel homey.

My migraine shots, giant bottle
of Ibuprofen I kept to give
to the girls who needed
to have procedures done.
I packed away my CPR cards,
my nursing licenses,
phone numbers of friends,
appointment cards so I'd
remember to ask for time off.

My nail polish and make-up,
bracelets we had made secretly
when my boss was gone,
deodorant and toothbrush,
stickers for patients kids...

All placed in one big box
along with my tears as
I stared at the blank walls
where pieces of my life
had hung to give
life to my
"second home".

It was so empty,
just as I felt inside.
Two more days and then
I leave to go to
a job I am dreading,
one that will feel cold,
empty, unfamiliar.
One without my own desk,
waiting to be filled
with years of memories.

Just a job.
8:30 - 5 p.m.
Five days a week.
I tell my kids
I'm lucky to have
somewhere else to go,
but today as I packed,
I forgot to place
one thing in that crate--

My heart.

Lori Beal