It’s Just 3 Days
Three twelve-hour shifts.
We repeat this to ourselves in the car,
waiting for the clock to demand our entry,
trying to convince ourselves
the abuse is worth the paycheck.
Fighting the urge to call out,
reminding ourselves-
we have patients to help,
families to feed.
Our calling becomes a quiet whisper
beneath the pounding heartbeat of fear.
Dread wraps tighter around us:
How heavy will the workload be today?
How many lives will we anchor?
How many decisions will we make in seconds?
How many blows will we have to dodge?
I step out of the car.
Each step toward the entrance feels heavier.
And yet today-
my inner voice convinces me:
One more day.
One more shift.
Doing the best I can,
even when the world cannot see
my struggles,
or my effort.
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