When I get ready for work, I am precise and methodical about my uniform, my route and my general routine. I find that this helps me put on my 'armour'. My armour is a psychological layer of protection that is tough and leathery, I envision it as a cross between dragon scales and medieval chain mail. It gives me the ability to remain polite and professional when a drunk, drugged out guy is screaming curses and insults, it allows me to remain expressionless when he then begins to detail exactly what he'd do to me if he caught me on the street. It enables me to put aside emotion when I work on a sick little child whose parents don't care enough about them to call for help before they stop breathing even while my whole being cries out to take that precious baby home. My armour is my way of remaining sane and compassionate amidst the sea of agony, abuse and apathy that I deal with every day.
When I am tired, sick or stressed, however, my armour weakens. This is when I am most bothered by calls, when I have to be very careful about my mental health. This weekend has been one such time. I am sick, functioning only on high doses of cold medications, exhausted and have had some extremely busy shifts. I had 2 patients crash hard and fast on me, including an adorable little kid, and pronounced another. Add in the needy flu patients, the stressed out nurses and the fact that my sinuses are ready to burst and you get one exhausted medic. Time to take a few days to myself and recharge!