The workday ended just like any other, but this shift was the last of a three-day twelve hour run. Brandy cleaned up, organized, and stocked her med cart so it was ready for the next nurse then gave report to the oncoming night nurse. It was 6:15pm and she needed to be clocked out by 6:30pm so there was no time for niceties, nor did she want them. She knew she'd have at least 4 or 5 patients, or their families, ask her for something as she took the long walk down the short hallway to the breakroom where the time clock was. Every day she rotated between loving her job where she felt fulfilled and dreading it due to the demands of the administration and doctors. But when it was time to clock out, she never once hesitated. Being home was usually much more pleasant and enjoyable than being at work.
Brandy opened up her big white Toyota Tundra and was instantly blasted with stale heat that the Arizona summers created. Another thing she both loved and hated at the same time, Arizona. During the summers it felt as if they lived two inches from the sun, and the sun didn't set until after 8:00 pm. The great thing about the summers was the lakes and rivers and camping, and wild horses and donkey which roam unfettered. Brandy had always been an outdoors person but living in California was different. In California everyone thought that meant she was a beach bunny. Sure, she liked the beach but could only take so much sand up her coochie before she got restless and ready to go home.
The drive home wasn't a long one, about 20 minutes, but that damn 303 Loop on ramp always gave her misgivings. And it was coming up. Three stories high over a melody of other drivers coming and going at neck breaking speeds. The architecture of the freeway systems and the designs along the were beautifully done, but the sheer height of it all was over whelming. Hell, most areas of Arizona didn't even allow building or houses to over two stories.
Brandy's mind was racing. Why did everyone always believe that nurse made bank? We're all struggling to make ends meet. And she didn't get paid nearly enough to put up with the crap she did. Skilled nursing facilities had ratio's boarding inhumane, 30 patients to one floor nurse. Sure, these patients weren't as critical as hospitalized patients, but they were just as demanding and they all needed medications, treatments, and some came to them with narly oozing wounds that needed dressing changes daily. Many of her patients came from mainstream hospitals where they weren't repositioned nearly enough and developed bed sores which were painful and difficult to heal. These patients were always in a severe amount of pain and usually consisted of the elderly or disabled which made it even more difficult to heal.
The more she reflected on her job the quicker the 303-anxiety increased, but she couldn't stop it.
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Another thing Brandy was sick of hearing was the 'it must be nice to have four days a week off'. Sure, it would be nice to have four days off if she was working a normal shift. Those three days of twelve-hour shifts consisted of getting up at 4am to leave the house by 5 am to be ready for work at 6 am. Only to spend twelve hours running from room to room trying to get all her shit done and hoping this day she would be able to take her lunch break. Even after she got home from work, she didn't get to relax, she had to feed the family, feed and walk the dogs, and then crash just to get up at 4 am to do it all again. She did this for a minimum of three days a week, most weeks it was four days. Even on her days off she had to do all the shit that no one else would do. She had to do the laundry, clean the pool, do the shopping, and a dozen other chores. Days off? There was no such thing when your facility refused to hire adequate nursing staff. And everyone's idea of a nurses job consisted of everyone else's job on top of her own. She was expected to do her job, help the CNA's do their job, clean up the rooms when she was in them instead of calling housing to do it, and make sure all her patients got the correct meals when the kitchen should already have that in their files.
What if... what if I just jerk this steering wheel to the left and allowed this truck to smash through the K-rail and careen into the busy traffic below? The thought was something she had on a fairly regular bases, especially on this freeway ramp. The drivers down below would have a great excuse not to go to work, at least the ones that survived the massive pile up that would occur.
Without warning Brandy's car jerked to the right slamming the side her head into the window and smashed through the K-rail. Brandy opened her eyes just in time to see concrete debris falling through the bright blue morning sky and crashing into her windshield. Cracks spidered and then quickly shattered as glass and concrete came flying at her. Brandy didn't even have the time to scream before her front bummer slammed into the vehicles on the freeway below the on ramp. The screeching of breaks and panicked screams from the other cars where the last thing Brandy would ever hear as warm sticky blood filled her eyes and mouth.
Brandy snapped out of it as she turned the corner onto the 303 and merge safely into traffic. Ten minutes later she entered her front door.
"Hi Honey, I picked up Taco Bell for dinner. Figured after yesterday you could use a break," Her husband called out from the kitchen. Every once in a while, he surprised her and made her smile.
Brandy was accosted by two canine fur balls three steps into the door, and she could hear her three kids playfully arguing over some silly video game. This is why she never turned that wheel, and never would. But that intrusive thought would still invade her brain every chance it had.
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According to Wikipedia an intrusive thought is an unwelcome, involuntary thought, image, or unpleasant idea that may become an obsession, is upsetting or distressing, and can feel difficult to manage or eliminate. These intrusive thoughts are very common but rarely spoken of.