April 1 will be my last day. Just thinking about walking away from there on that last day... I'm not even sure I can describe how I feel about it. That's probably why I'm writing about it--an attempt to process the feelings. I will be having a little farewell that day, and will take lots of pictures throughout this next week. I'll probably do another post after the fact, and will put up those pictures then. But right now, it's just about all these feelings.
I took the job at FPH in 1987, right out of nursing school, mostly because they had a unit dedicated to treating diabetes patients. I interviewed with several other hospitals, but was strongly attracted by the strong diabetes focus at FPH. I felt very passionate about that at the time, and still do, actually. During my nursing school experience, I had seen several "near-miss" incidents at different hospitals, where patients with diabetes were treated in kind of a haphazard way, insulin doses missed or overshot, diagnostic tests scheduled without consideration of medication needs, etc. Jessica had been diabetic for a few years by that time, and I was very sensitive to the needs of diabetes patients I was seeing in various medical and surgical settings. I was horrified by what I saw during school, to be quite honest. I was very attracted by the idea of a unit and a staff who were dedicated to making sure patients with diabetes were treated appropriately in the hospital setting, that hospital administration as well as the nurses who worked there had made a commitment to doing so.
Of course, over the past two decades I have seen many many changes, but I still recall how exciting to me it was to have that brand new job, after the slog through school. To finally feel the security of having that paycheck and mostly knowing that we finally had health insurance. It was an immense relief. After a few years of working, I realized that my real passion was more focused on people's inner, emotional lives than their physical care. I began a long process of more schooling, with a plan to change careers. I was supported in that by so many people, and my schedule was always accommodated; it was difficult, but I always appreciated the flexibility of a nursing schedule that allowed me to pursue other interests and needs.
My friends at FPH have gone through a lot with me. When Jessica had her stroke in '95, they were the ones, mostly, who supported me, got me through it. Many of them also helped me financially during those first few months, when I had to take more time off than I had vacation/sick time to pay for. And they all helped me emotionally. It was wonderful having someone to talk to at 3 in the morning when I couldn't sleep, worrying about how I was going to manage--a huge night shift bonus is having friends who are awake and don't mind a call.
When Jessica's needs finally made it impossible for me to continue in my second school life, and I realized I was never going to be able to really change careers, it was a huge loss to me; it was largely my friends at FPH who helped me cope, who listened as I cried about my feelings, the finality and enormity of that loss.
When Erin was getting married, those were the friends who gave me ideas and helped me plan how to do things for her wedding. When I was going to be a grandma, they were the friends I talked to about it. They have watched my grandchildren come, and have looked at my endless pictures of them as they've grown. They listen with interest to my grandma stories, as I listen to theirs. Some of them know the kids as well as any family could. Probably because I don't have a huge family of my own, many of these friends have become like family to me, and have beautifully fulfilled that role.
When I had surgery, I was not cared for by just nurses and hospital employees. I was truly taken care of by my friends. There is a lot to be said for knowing that there are people all around you who you absolutely trust to take good care of you.
Of course, as I've aged, the "family" feeling I have for many friends at FPH has changed. Now many of them feel like my children instead of my peers. Because, of course, now many of them are the ages of my own children. I care about many of them like my own children; I want the best for them, have hopes for their lives and their children and their futures.
Part of the tension between looking forward to retirement and having great anxiety about it, I know, is the knowledge that in my ideal world (is there such a thing?) I would still be working another two to three years. I'm working on accepting that I do not live in a perfect world, and I don't get to have what I might want. There are many reasons that this is necessary now, which I won't belabor here. But part of the feeling of loss, I think, is not just related to no longer working; it is accepting that the perfect retirement I'd once imagined is never going to be reality.
So, yes, I have a lot of FEELINGS about leaving FPH. There have, of course, been many changes there over all these years; many people I cared about have left before me, and many new people have come in. A few special ones have become close friends, but mostly I feel the sensation of being more connected to the past than the new. Part of that, I'm sure, is just a natural part of being older. My connections, my memories, are more with the past; that is where my most intense commitments remain. That realization helps me to separate, too. It is, after all, the natural order of things; the old move on and the young take over.
With all of this in mind, I think 4/1 will be a most emotional day, and I doubt that I will get very much actual "work" done at all. I hope that I will be able to express to those certain people how much they've meant to me, without just completely "losing it." I hope to feel a sense of completeness in the transition, a rightness about it all, and not just loss. We shall see...
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