Continuing Education
I remember one time, when Dad and I were driving somewhere in Portland, he told me that if he ever had to go to the hopsital emergently, that I was supposed to demand they take him to Legacy instead of OHSU. He said he would much rather have someone who was old and experienced working on him than some new resident. I laughed and told him I’d be sure to follow his wishes. Now I understand why. Residents are ... learning.
This is probably the thing I mourn most about my dad dying sooner than he should have. He would’ve been able to give me so much advice about dealing with “Docs” and we could’ve easily swapped stories from work. (That reminds me, I should look into the nurse malpractice insurance he told me about since I’ll be volunteering in two weeks, and I’m licensed now.)
My dad and I didn’t have the best relationship in the few years before he died. We didn’t see eye to eye about a few important things, and that drove a wedge between us. Graduating from college and starting life on my own was probably going to fix that. The years to come promised a renewed relationship, especially since we could’ve “talked shop,” especially now that I work at a large hospital system. He would’ve sent me a sassy card for Nurse’s Week, and bragged about how I got a job at Johns Hopkins right out of school. He would’ve asked about the crazy things I see at work, and swapped stories with his clinic managers.
Remembering my dad doesn’t make me sad- it usually makes me smile. What makes me sad is thinking of the things I missed out on in the future- getting to know him as a friend and not just a father. Seeing him spoil the heck out of his grandchildren. Asking his advice on the next step in my career and what programs would be the best.
I miss my daddy. I miss his hugs and hearing him say “Hey Missy” when I call. I still snap to attention when someone whistles and my heart breaks a little when I realize it won’t ever be him again.
But that makes me all the more grateful for what he gave me. I wouldn’t be sitting here, fighting sleep in the middle of my third straight night shift at a job I love if he hadn’t pushed me to do my best, challenged me to discover what I loved, and encouraged me to follow my dreams, no matter where they took me.
So even though my job frequently reminds me of him, like when the new residents start each year, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Being here makes me feel closer to him, as time draws me further away.
This is probably the thing I mourn most about my dad dying sooner than he should have. He would’ve been able to give me so much advice about dealing with “Docs” and we could’ve easily swapped stories from work. (That reminds me, I should look into the nurse malpractice insurance he told me about since I’ll be volunteering in two weeks, and I’m licensed now.)
My dad and I didn’t have the best relationship in the few years before he died. We didn’t see eye to eye about a few important things, and that drove a wedge between us. Graduating from college and starting life on my own was probably going to fix that. The years to come promised a renewed relationship, especially since we could’ve “talked shop,” especially now that I work at a large hospital system. He would’ve sent me a sassy card for Nurse’s Week, and bragged about how I got a job at Johns Hopkins right out of school. He would’ve asked about the crazy things I see at work, and swapped stories with his clinic managers.
Remembering my dad doesn’t make me sad- it usually makes me smile. What makes me sad is thinking of the things I missed out on in the future- getting to know him as a friend and not just a father. Seeing him spoil the heck out of his grandchildren. Asking his advice on the next step in my career and what programs would be the best.
I miss my daddy. I miss his hugs and hearing him say “Hey Missy” when I call. I still snap to attention when someone whistles and my heart breaks a little when I realize it won’t ever be him again.
But that makes me all the more grateful for what he gave me. I wouldn’t be sitting here, fighting sleep in the middle of my third straight night shift at a job I love if he hadn’t pushed me to do my best, challenged me to discover what I loved, and encouraged me to follow my dreams, no matter where they took me.
So even though my job frequently reminds me of him, like when the new residents start each year, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Being here makes me feel closer to him, as time draws me further away.
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