The Quiet Warrior

I think a lot about the things we see and do as trauma nurses. The people we treat and the people save. I think about the lives we touch and the ones that touch us. We are often not remembered, hardly recognized, and always behind the scenes. We are the quiet warriors, the ones leading an army of gifted individuals toward a common goal. The human body is an amazing piece of machinery. We are an amazing team of mechanics. But what happens when the machine is too broken, and there is nothing left for us to fix? What happens when our role suddenly becomes undefined and the lines of battle are no longer clearly drawn? Who do we turn to when all we can do is nothing? We see the worst of the worst, and yet, we hardly ever hear, see, or feel any sort of collective "how can we help you?". We are left alone, to conquer our own demons, whatever they may be. For some, its the trauma of trauma. For others, its the helplessness of being helpless. So what do you say, who do ask, how do you cope with the undefinable emotion of an unwinable war? How do you look a family in the face and say. "I am sorry, we have done all we can do. There is nothing more we can do for your son". How do you look a father in the eye and say to him, "Your daughter is strong, but we cant save her."

You do it with grace, with compassion, with emotion. You cry too. You hurt too. You feel their pain because it is your pain too. If there isn't a father, a mother, or a family to ask; then you alone are all that person has, and you still cry, you still hurt, you still feel the same agonizing pain.

When you go home, you you realize you are a solider, and sometimes you have to fight without any weapons, without any armor. You become enraged at a world that doesn't let you choose whether or not you will have to give it 150% for little or nothing. However, after you leave, you always come back knowing you are there to do it all over again. Its your fight, your battle. You are the quiet warrior...