Could've been an "average Joe."

So here I sit at 3:30 in the morning after having one of those nights. No, wait...one of those weeks.

I sometimes get razzed about being a male nurse by the fellas at the fire station. (yea, Shani...you're a fella, okay!) I've heard all the jokes and the snide remarks, and most of the time I'm pretty sure I deserve it. All in all, its a fun way to make light of a job that takes an extraordinary amount of time. Maybe I should've been an average Joe, work one job and spend more time enjoying life. Every now and then there are times when I myself wonder why I took this on. Tonight is one of those times.

Over the last several nights I have been assigned one patient here in the ICU. A young mother of five. She was pretty healthy up until a few weeks ago when she went to her doctor complaining of a headache. After some "routine" tests the doctor informed her that she had cancer.

Since she is so young, she and her family decided to fight the disease. While undergoing chemo four days ago she reported her headache got much worse. Another CT revealed a small brain bleed. She was sent here to my ICU and I have had her as my only patient for three nights straight.

In the last two nights, I think I've worked harder than I ever have before. I have easily hung more blood, pushed more antibiotics, and had more IV's than I ever have before. My 12 hours shifts have become 16. I sat next to her husband last night for two hours and explained in great detail what each medicine was for and then allowed him to help me care for his wife. He told me of his love for her, and that they have known each other since the third grade. This morning as I left for a quick "nap" at home I left my patient with the anticipation of returning tonight to get her off the ventilator.

When I returned, I was met by the patient's family and the group of doctors in charge of her care. She had taken a turn for the worse. Her brain-bleed had tripled in size. The patient's husband had asked that we wait to "pull the tube" (the breathing tube) until later.

So here I sit outside a hospital room, caring for a family going through one of the most difficult and emotional times they will ever know. I have no idea why I was requested. They are an awesome family, and I admire their strength and testimony of the atonement. Throughout the night I think I've met each member of the extended family. They come in scared, apprehensive and enter a room where they say their final goodbyes to their mom, their daughter and sister. As they leave, most have stopped to smile and a few have shook my hand. The husband's father told me that his son expressed thanks for the time I took to take care of him, and not just his wife.

There are times when this job really sucks. This is not one of those times. Tonight is one when the the vails between eternity and mortality are parted, and the things of eternal worth are palpable. Seems as you can go to church every sunday and never grasp the significance of the eternal nature of the soul. For most, the sealing powers of heaven are never tested, or even questioned, until the game of life is in its final play. Ol' King Benjamin once proclaimed that this life is a time to prepare to meet God. Tonight, as a nurse, I have a front row seat, and I can't help but feel sorry that the "average Joe" misses out on premium seats like these.