I’ve made my bed. I chose this career and its 24-hour shifts. My patients call at all hours of the night and that’s fine because it’s just me. My husband left with my stepchildren years ago. I still have the same bed. It’s massive and the sheets are never orderly and I nearly drown in them every night.

I am the victim of my own dysfunction. I see these women weekly and I talk to them and hear their stories. Some have suffered and others only believe they have. I’ve held some in my arms, though I try to keep my distance. I can’t heal them.

I only wish I could.

 

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