The Show Must Go On, but When Do I Exhale?

Tuesday, November 11, 2014

I haven't known how to start writing again. The truth is that I have had a difficult time getting my thoughts and my sentences to make sense. Today I need to write, I need to communicate, and it just does not matter how it comes out.

I had a very stressful day today...and the worst part is that I insisted on holding myself together. I couldn't cry, I couldn't fall apart...it just wasn't the time.

The company I work for offers on site flu vaccination clinics at numerous locations such as churches and pretty much any place of employment. In my district, I have been called to run a great number of theses clinics. As a pharmacist, I do everything from gathering all the materials and supplies, taking care of all the paperwork and insurance information to, of course, administering the vaccine itself. While it seems like a lot of work, I always welcome the opportunity to work outside of the maddening retail pharmacy environment, away from telephones ringing and where I only have to take care of one patient at a time and answer questions from one person at a time. Today was one of those clinics.

Everything was flowing smoothly...until I got stuck by a needle. Really? I thought. Did this just really happen? I tried to deny it until I saw myself bleeding. After finishing up with the people who were already at my table, I excused myself and went to the bathroom to wash up and put on a bandage. I called my supervisor and continued to vaccinate. When a nurse called my cell phone to begin the post-exposure prophylaxis protocol, I continued to direct people to fill out their applications and have a seat at the table. It was insane...it felt insane, but I was more concerned about appearing unprofessional than about anything else, I didn't want them to know that anything had happened. I thought I would just take care of this situation privately and their flu clinic would continue without a hiccup.

I was embarrassed that it had happened in the first place. This was a 400-employee site, and I did not want to attract attention to myself because of this incident. Eventually, my company sent another pharmacist to take my place. I quietly informed their Human Resources manager of what had happened and escaped to the privacy of my van to complete my conversation with the nurse and receive instructions on where to go for HIV and hepatitis testing and whatever else the protocol required.

As I drove the thirty minutes to the specified location (a walk-in clinic near my home), I felt tears start to well up. I stopped them. I told myself no. I said it was not the time to fall apart. There was still too much to be done. I had a previously scheduled appointment with my therapist that afternoon, and I told myself that I would talk about it them. I could cry all I wanted in the comfort of his office.

I never made it to my therapist. I spent over two hours at this freezing cold walk-in clinic and had to cancel my appointment with him. I still haven't cried. I still feel stunned. I still haven't let myself just exhale. I'm still trying to keep it together. The truth is that I didn't want to come home and write about it. I just wanted to talk to him and cry.