Sometimes, I feel like an overpaid babysitter...literally. Which I'm okay with since prior to this year, I wasn't even a moderately or poorly-paid anything. But it's gotta say something when I'm at the occupation I busted my butt for for two years and I find myself dissatisfied.
I shouldn't be so ungrateful and I'm not; I just want to be able to do so much more than what I'm doing now. Last night, I started my very super first IV ever on my patient. Even if you've never had one, you'd know that getting a little tube into a tiny vein isn't an easy (or remotely comfortable) task. But I did it on my first try and, I gotta say, I felt super awesome. Like I'd won a game I didn't even realize I'd been playing.
But it occurred to me that my job is a lot like my hair: short and slow growing.
See, I can't make my hair grow faster, much like I can't rush my own personal mental and emotional healing. It just takes time to happen and I know, one day, it'll be the perfect size, the perfect length, the perfect fit for me.
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