If I Wasn't Me, I'd Want To Punch Me In The Throat.

The worst thing about being a nurse is, nope, not the poop;  it is having to work holidays.  As a part timer I have to work one out of three each season.  And I have to work every other Christmas.  I worked it last year, so this year I'll have it off.  Yay.

But.

I've looked ahead a year.  And as my schedule stands now, I'll work Christmas Eve AND Christmas next year.  That just breaks my heart.  So.  I hatched a plan to volunteer myself to work this Christmas again, which means they have to give me the day off next year.

I'm so smaht.

Well, though I try to avoid the rumor mill, slapping my hands over my ears and singing "lalalalalalalalala" when the rumor mongers come calling; I heard a nasty one last week.

Then I heard the same rumor again, from a different person.  I believed that a new nurse, a new grad, was hired to work on my floor every weekend.

Wh- Wha- WHAT THE FUCK?

This would displace me and put me where ever there is a hole.  I'll show up for work every other weekend not knowing where I'm going to be thrown.

I was mad.  Really mad. Spitting nails and broken glass and other sharp stabby things mad.

I composed a snarky text message to the scheduler in my head.

I imagined a conversation with the Director of Nurses about how I don't appreciate being treated like merely a warm body with a valid nursing license.

I lost sleep even (which is fine as I have piles of extra sleep laying around the house).  I lay awake fuming; with the 'How dare theys?'  and  'They can't do thats!' and the  'I'll just fucking quit, that'll show 'ems'.

At some point in the wee hours of my internal temper tantrum I had a thought,  more of a revelation.  And here comes the throat punchy part, 'cause if anyone ever told me this, I'd want to fucking punch them in the throat:

I have no control over these external factors that are fucking with me.  I do however, have control over my reaction to them.

How obnoxious is that?  I know.  You wanna punch me in the throat.  It's fine. I deserve it.

What's worse?  I felt better.  Instantly.  Anger *poof* gone.

I know why they would put that nurse on my floor.  We're the easiest floor.  We have the most consistent staff.  The nurses she'll be working with every weekend have been nurses for thirty years, and have worked that floor for at least five.  It is the perfect place for a new grad to learn.

I can't go looking for a new job.  I like the place.  I'm not just saying this because I work there, but it is the best place in town, to work or to live.   It looks like a freaking hotel.   Most of us are happy there, the staff and residents.

I made up my mind to face the scheduler and/or Director with a smile, grab my ankles and let them have their way with me.

And when I got to work today, I was greeted by this new nurse.  Hand shakes and introductions and;

"So.  You're going to do every weekend?  You lucked out to get this floor.  You'll get a lot of help.  It is a great place to start."

"Oh. Well, they say this floor is pretty well staffed, so I'll probably be across the building most of the time."

I'm such a dumbass.  Bunk fucking rumor.

Obvious lesson learned.  No more rumors for me.  I promise.

Another thing?  I'm not going to sacrifice this Christmas.  I'm going to work whatever holiday they put me on, most likely Thanksgiving.

Because many things could happen between now and next year;

I could come into gobs of money and no longer need to work.

Al could do so well with his job that I could afford a huge pay cut and work for Hospice.

I could get fired when the Director discovers this blog ( I need to cross Getting fired from a job off my bucket list anyway).

A thousand good or bad things could happen, and I can't plan for any of them. 

I learned all about the best laid plans seven and a half years ago.

But I'll make all sorts of plans to enjoy the crap out of this holiday season anyway.

Right after I punch myself in the throat.