I find that in my profession, crying is sometimes as much a necessity as are drugs and equipment.
Sure, I maintain my professional demeanor at work. But sometimes, some things are just so incredibly heart breaking - that it is hard not to cry. If I were not to release my emotions once a while, I'd simply go to pieces.
Despite decades in the health care field as a professional - somethings are just never easy to do. And it's not always about death - sometimes, it's the living and their fight against their demons. Sometimes, it is about the absolutely innocent being forced to endure far beyond their share or capability.
The 6 year old child wracked by horrible pain because of bone cancer... who barely whimpers because she wants to appear brave and stoic. The diabetic homeless guy watching in silent apathy as his foot is sawn off sans any anesthesia because it has rotted and necrosed to the point where he can't feel a thing. The 42 year old mother of 4, who is softly sobbing "I don't want to die. I don't want to die" while spasming in pain ... after being diagnosed with liver cancer and being given two months to live. The 3 year old boy who silently tugs on your pinkie finger and asks in a soft, solemn voice and a sad face "My mommy is going to die, isn't she?" The 34 year old woman who is readmitted for the 16th time in the past 20 years for recurrent bowel disorder forcing her to go through the same, painful surgery and the same painful recovery yet again. The 14 year old girl screaming "I'm not pregnant! I'm not pregnant!" while delivering a premature baby loaded high with crack cocaine... and then refusing to nurse or touch her baby, pretending that it's not hers. The sad, forlorn, drop-dead-weary look in a mother's eyes as health care workers fight like cats and dogs on her full grown but severely handicapped child... for perhaps the hundredth time in their lives...
... to assisting in delivering a baby to this world. Watching a crippled child scream in joy while taking her first steps on prosthetics after being bed-ridden for the first 7 years of her life. Watching the look of pride and accomplishment on the face of an autistic boy who uses a can opener to open a can of peaches for the first time in his life - all by himself. Having the 40 year old farmer grasp your hands in a firm handshake, and with tears streaming down his face thank you from the bottom of his heart for saving his life. To the 80 year old great-grandmother quietly, softly celebrate the birth of her 10th great-grandchild.
Yeah. I cry. Sometimes it's just blurry eyes. Other times it's a full blown bawl.
How can I not?
And sometimes, poignant imagery can make me tear up.
For example:
Makes me tear up... every single time.
cheers,