I always swear work doesn’t affect me.
Trauma?! HA! Never.
And for the most part I am ok.
But suddenly I realized as I counted every single calorie; every single bite… scrubbed every surface and washed my hands far too many times..
The fear of gaining weight; of relying on everyone else to care for me…
Just might be coming from the living people whose bodies are actively rotting. Flesh and fluids dripping off the sides of my stretcher.
My ambulance regularly becoming a biohazard until I’ve scrubbed every inch.
Listening to the sounds of weeping patients on their way to the ER for the 5th time this month because no body cares about them.
It’s not death that scares me. Not loss of limbs or sight that worries me. It’s not having anyone who wants to love me. Not having anyone willing to speak for me when I am broken. It’s the idea my mind can be pristinely sharp but my body defeated and needing someone. But no body cares.
That possibility is petrifying.
-ARI