“It’s a nurse’s life.”
When you marry a nurse, you are also marrying their profession.
There are numerous opportunities that have been squandered. Missed family dinners, missed events with the kids.
You have to accept it deep down. You understand that THIS is their destiny. This is their life’s work.
While my nurse sleeps, I quietly clean the house for her, do the dishes, prepare meals, and do laundry, so that when she leaves the house an hour before her pre-shift, she has a clean home, clean scrubs, and somewhat sane children, as well as a meal prepared for her.
My nurse tells me about her night when she gets home. All of the craziness that occurred during her night. Patients are coding and becoming belligerent. Sitting with her dying patients, making them as comfortable as possible, and bottling up her emotions so she doesn’t have to carry them home with her. Coming home to watch her children smile and tell her how much they love her is a wonderful feeling. Knowing that they are safe and secure allows you to relax.
In many ways, nurses are superstitious. Mine just wears the ugliest socks to mock the nursing gods. Despite this, she makes it through each night, regaling us with tales of ‘dumpster fires’ and*t shows.’ Then there’s the one I always ask: ‘What the hell socks are you wearing?’ (They refer to him as the ‘ringmaster of the sh*t show.’) I remind her that I’ll burn them in a ritualistic manner to appease the nursing gods.
She calls me on her way home from work, 5 hours after her shift is supposed to end, to tell me to stay up. I let her rant, vent, and tell her how wonderful she is as a mother, nurse, and wife. Day in and day out, she gives her all. As a result, I follow suit. I’m sure I’m not the only one who sleeps alone. It’s her as well. So when she gets home, I make sure the bed is made.
It’s the small things that count. They’re all important. In exchange, I don’t ask her for anything that she can’t readily provide. In her most recent 16-hour shift, she has done so much for others. She skipped her supper in order to administer medications. Her bladder is close to bursting, but she keeps going. She is missing her nurses because they are on vacation. She rummages through her backpack to find her ‘trash panda’ treats. Sticky notes advise her to have a good night, that we love her, and that she should quit eating junk.
In the meantime, I’m completing homework with four children and preparing dinner and lunches for the following day. All of this is so she doesn’t have to be concerned. Our nurse, mother, wife, and best friend are all people we adore.
You need to get some rest, darling. You are not required to work tonight. We can prepare a meal together. I’ll even give you a foot rub.”