As The World Turns . . .
I have to admit I feel an interesting form of pride in working nights. I used to pride myself in the ability to "handle" blood. Every once in a while a listener will state how they could never do what I do because they can't handle the sight of blood. That pride went away long ago, since everybody can handle the sight of blood if they see it every day in the same context - they just don't know it. I personally can't stand the smell of the hot rancid garbage in our neighborhood dumpster, but I'm sure I could be a trash collector - after a rough first month. But I don't think there are too many people who can really pull off working permanent nightshift, so a camaraderie exists among those who can. We share similar hardships and similar benefits that set us apart from daylighters.
This past week I got to enjoy one of those benefits. Many people wake up to breaking news, but with TV's on in every lounge, all with the volume turned low, nightshift hospital employees get the benefit of the late breaking story. I was one of the first to see the London bombings, Peter Jennings' death announcement, and most recently, Shuttle landing updates. This may seem trivial to some, since after a good 24 hours everybody in the world knows. But for a little while I feel like I am privileged with a secret relevant to the rest of the world, if only they were awake.
The shuttle landing was the most interesting for me. Perhaps because it wasn't a depressing topic like death or terrorism, but maybe for a different reason. Those people at NASA had to work under stressful conditions during the early morning hours. They were nightshifters. For myself and my coworkers, it was a drama played out over two nights, its relevance understood by those of us who could grasp the story in relation to our own jobs, and not as a TV announcement over breakfast cereal.
In no small part due to my affinity for space, we all kept up with the progress of the landing. I announced when I came on shift a few nights ago, that if things were slow, we could gather around the TV and witness a momentous event in human space exploration LIVE - a "shuttle party". No one really seemed motivated but me, but when the hour came, I made sure the TV was on in the L&D lounge. It was a slow night indeed.
It's interesting to see a group of professionals working as a team on live TV at 4am while working with a group of people as a team at 4am. I instantly sensed a feeling of camaraderie with the coffee drinking NASA people who were under significant pressure. They had to act professional for the cameras just as we have to act professional for the patients. They had to make decisions while human lives were at stake. I grappled with a shy sense of embarrassment for aligning myself with these true national heroes until others in the room began talking about the similarities as well.
We heard the mission controller's announcement that the first landing was aborted due to fog. A second landing that morning was possible, and with this revelation of "failure", people asked me more than a few questions about the event.
"What will they do now?"
"How long will it take them to circle around again?"
"The entire Earth?"
"What if it's still too foggy?"
"Has this ever happened before?"
I don't really know that much about the space shuttle, but I became the resident pro since I knew almost all the simple answers. I enjoyed it. Not because I had all the answers (although that was pretty cool), but because their questions reduced the event from a military-like accomplishment to a basic human problem. There were 7 people stuck up there. Sure there were back up plans and such, but it didn't negate the fact that they had been up there for 2 weeks and it was time to come home. After all, the last 7 didn't.
When mission control announced that the second and last attempt of the day was scrubbed, I was surprised with the sense of anxiety in my coworkers. I didn't tell them that the astronauts will probably relish the 24 hour delay by earth gazing; after all, these people are exposed to views of Earth I consider priceless. Nonetheless, you can't tell me everyday in space is stress-free when the dangerous re-entry is on the horizon - I don't care how moving the view.
The next night I was surprised by the excitement my coworkers had for the upcoming landing. It seemed the nurses, mostly female, had been hooked by the drama of this somewhat scientific male oriented event. The female flight commander, Eileen Collins, was evidently a quick overnight hero among the proud corps of nurses I work with.
When the next two landings in Florida were aborted, there was more dismay. But California was a "go" at 8am, after we were all to go home. That morning, while lying in bed with my baby girl, and my wife getting out of the shower to watch, NASA pulled off a picture perfect night landing (5am pacific) with infrared camera coverage. It was without question, impressive.
I have mixed emotions about the shuttle program. I think it has been the world's most expensive eighteen wheeler, not without it's flaws and disasters. But it has also been an unquestionable milestone in humankind's ability to create and execute, using some of the most intelligent, well trained and well educated people ever to walk the earth. And this last "return to space" mission was the archetypical bruised cowboy getting back on his horse.
For those of us who got to watch the drama unfold live, it was a treat. We were able to break away from a stressful job and share in some else's real-life stress. What is a headline to the rest of the world was an ongoing process that was witnessed with clear minds and surprising empathy.
Hard decisions are made regarding human life at any hospital by more than just doctors, especially at night. Luckily, I am exposed to life-threatening situations and decisions rarely, which is perhaps why I have not become numb to them. I prefer it that way. I prefer to have a controlled emotional respose to my patients. Some healthcare workers see tragic death all the time and must steel themselves permanently. My hat goes off to those who sacrifice their sensitivity so that strangers can be fixed.
But NASA people are not numb. They are scared, I think. Death is a shadow in the corner but never a constant reality. They must ready themselves for a moment that does not happen often, or has not ever happened at all. When I am put in a highly stressful situation, I am, in a nutshell, scared, and must force a calm and efficient response.
All of my coworkers - nurses, techs, doctors - felt a sense of attachment to the NASA personnel at mission control during those early morning hours - we recognized the forced calm in their voices and insane attentiveness and concentration. And when the shuttle made a nice landing, some of us in our cars, others still stuck at work, and most at home, we shared a sense of awe, relief, camaraderie, and of course, pride.
It's amazing for me to think that this country can produce the money and minds to accomplish something unfathomable just a half century ago. My wife and I were surprised to find ourselves a little choked up after the shuttle landed and mission control told the crew, "space shuttle Discovery, welcome home."
They were home. Space is nothing. It is simply cold, dark death, yet seven astronauts and a team of very smart, very professional people cheated it for 2 weeks.
My coworkers told me they were equally moved that morning. I told them NASA has more in store after the shuttle program. The Moon, Mars, Europa . . . I just hope to stay alive long enough to witness it.
And I hope when I see it, it'll be at night. ;)
This past week I got to enjoy one of those benefits. Many people wake up to breaking news, but with TV's on in every lounge, all with the volume turned low, nightshift hospital employees get the benefit of the late breaking story. I was one of the first to see the London bombings, Peter Jennings' death announcement, and most recently, Shuttle landing updates. This may seem trivial to some, since after a good 24 hours everybody in the world knows. But for a little while I feel like I am privileged with a secret relevant to the rest of the world, if only they were awake.
The shuttle landing was the most interesting for me. Perhaps because it wasn't a depressing topic like death or terrorism, but maybe for a different reason. Those people at NASA had to work under stressful conditions during the early morning hours. They were nightshifters. For myself and my coworkers, it was a drama played out over two nights, its relevance understood by those of us who could grasp the story in relation to our own jobs, and not as a TV announcement over breakfast cereal.
In no small part due to my affinity for space, we all kept up with the progress of the landing. I announced when I came on shift a few nights ago, that if things were slow, we could gather around the TV and witness a momentous event in human space exploration LIVE - a "shuttle party". No one really seemed motivated but me, but when the hour came, I made sure the TV was on in the L&D lounge. It was a slow night indeed.
It's interesting to see a group of professionals working as a team on live TV at 4am while working with a group of people as a team at 4am. I instantly sensed a feeling of camaraderie with the coffee drinking NASA people who were under significant pressure. They had to act professional for the cameras just as we have to act professional for the patients. They had to make decisions while human lives were at stake. I grappled with a shy sense of embarrassment for aligning myself with these true national heroes until others in the room began talking about the similarities as well.
We heard the mission controller's announcement that the first landing was aborted due to fog. A second landing that morning was possible, and with this revelation of "failure", people asked me more than a few questions about the event.
"What will they do now?"
"How long will it take them to circle around again?"
"The entire Earth?"
"What if it's still too foggy?"
"Has this ever happened before?"
I don't really know that much about the space shuttle, but I became the resident pro since I knew almost all the simple answers. I enjoyed it. Not because I had all the answers (although that was pretty cool), but because their questions reduced the event from a military-like accomplishment to a basic human problem. There were 7 people stuck up there. Sure there were back up plans and such, but it didn't negate the fact that they had been up there for 2 weeks and it was time to come home. After all, the last 7 didn't.
When mission control announced that the second and last attempt of the day was scrubbed, I was surprised with the sense of anxiety in my coworkers. I didn't tell them that the astronauts will probably relish the 24 hour delay by earth gazing; after all, these people are exposed to views of Earth I consider priceless. Nonetheless, you can't tell me everyday in space is stress-free when the dangerous re-entry is on the horizon - I don't care how moving the view.
The next night I was surprised by the excitement my coworkers had for the upcoming landing. It seemed the nurses, mostly female, had been hooked by the drama of this somewhat scientific male oriented event. The female flight commander, Eileen Collins, was evidently a quick overnight hero among the proud corps of nurses I work with.
When the next two landings in Florida were aborted, there was more dismay. But California was a "go" at 8am, after we were all to go home. That morning, while lying in bed with my baby girl, and my wife getting out of the shower to watch, NASA pulled off a picture perfect night landing (5am pacific) with infrared camera coverage. It was without question, impressive.
I have mixed emotions about the shuttle program. I think it has been the world's most expensive eighteen wheeler, not without it's flaws and disasters. But it has also been an unquestionable milestone in humankind's ability to create and execute, using some of the most intelligent, well trained and well educated people ever to walk the earth. And this last "return to space" mission was the archetypical bruised cowboy getting back on his horse.
For those of us who got to watch the drama unfold live, it was a treat. We were able to break away from a stressful job and share in some else's real-life stress. What is a headline to the rest of the world was an ongoing process that was witnessed with clear minds and surprising empathy.
Hard decisions are made regarding human life at any hospital by more than just doctors, especially at night. Luckily, I am exposed to life-threatening situations and decisions rarely, which is perhaps why I have not become numb to them. I prefer it that way. I prefer to have a controlled emotional respose to my patients. Some healthcare workers see tragic death all the time and must steel themselves permanently. My hat goes off to those who sacrifice their sensitivity so that strangers can be fixed.
But NASA people are not numb. They are scared, I think. Death is a shadow in the corner but never a constant reality. They must ready themselves for a moment that does not happen often, or has not ever happened at all. When I am put in a highly stressful situation, I am, in a nutshell, scared, and must force a calm and efficient response.
All of my coworkers - nurses, techs, doctors - felt a sense of attachment to the NASA personnel at mission control during those early morning hours - we recognized the forced calm in their voices and insane attentiveness and concentration. And when the shuttle made a nice landing, some of us in our cars, others still stuck at work, and most at home, we shared a sense of awe, relief, camaraderie, and of course, pride.
It's amazing for me to think that this country can produce the money and minds to accomplish something unfathomable just a half century ago. My wife and I were surprised to find ourselves a little choked up after the shuttle landed and mission control told the crew, "space shuttle Discovery, welcome home."
They were home. Space is nothing. It is simply cold, dark death, yet seven astronauts and a team of very smart, very professional people cheated it for 2 weeks.
My coworkers told me they were equally moved that morning. I told them NASA has more in store after the shuttle program. The Moon, Mars, Europa . . . I just hope to stay alive long enough to witness it.
And I hope when I see it, it'll be at night. ;)
posted by All Rounder | 1:38 AM
2 Comments:
I don't know, I liked the ending better when you just said "at night." Short & sweet.
Not to dis the whole piece, which is really nice. You're a very good writer.
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