I sat in the break room with my forearm extended as a coworker slowly injected PPD solution into the subcutaneous fat on my inner arm, and as I watched the perfectly round bubble appear there I thought about the patient I had taken care of. Should I have forseen she might have TB?
It really didn’t matter, not at this point, not to me, or to the dozens of other healthcare workers who had entered her room as she unknowingly suffered through an active tuberculosis infection. And as I sat at the table thinking about my own possible exposure another coworker voiced her concerns.
“My five year old sleeps with me every night,” she said. “I just hate to think I’m bringing stuff like this home. Sometimes I wonder if what we do is worth it?”
Worth the risk, is what she meant, and although I had no symptoms of an active infection that could have passed to my own three children five years of age and younger, the thought still crossed my mind how dangerous my occupation could be to my family.
Every time I walked through the door and my children rushed up to hug me my mind screamed, no, let me change. There was no way to know what unseen body fluid might exist on my scrubs, and I won’t even venture to guess the colonies of illness stuck to the bottom of my shoes on any given day. You could use standard precautions all you wanted, and you could wash your hands until your skin peeled off (which I did), but you couldn’t stop yourself from breathing in unseen, contagious airborne viruses. And sure, you could contract these same sicknesses at the local supermarket, but let’s be honest, they were more prevalent in the hospital setting.
You couldn’t protect yourself from the fact that in this profession you spent an extravagant amount of time handling feces, vomitus, sputum, and such, and disposable, thin latex was hardly a dependable barrier against contamination. Factor in the very real possibility that those same body fluids could contain something lethal and it could be quite anxiety inducing. So you didn’t think about it. Instead you simply considered it part of the job.
You couldn’t always protect yourself against suddenly combative patients who jerked violently while you held sharp objects in your hand such as needles that had come in contact with HIV or Hepatitis infected blood.
You were not able to always anticipate blood spatters or mucous sprays, and although goggles and masks were always available, in emergent situations you might miss the mark on donning that protective gear.
I am blessed to have never experienced a needle stick or other occupational exposure, but I’ve seen it happen quickly right in front of my eyes. I’ve seen the wayward arterial blood shoot in the small space between eyeglasses and face, spraying blood in unexpectant eyes. I’ve seen a patient’s coughing fit during a bath shoot sputum out of their trach right into a coworkers mouth, and if that doesn’t make you question your vocation then I don’t know what would.
And as my coworker today voiced her concern over the occupational hazards we faced day in and day out I too considered, was it worth it. Then another thought came to mind.
Someone had to do it.
What if no young man or woman ever had the courage to fight for freedom on foreign land? Where would our country be?
What if no mother or father of young children agreed to strap on a bullet proof vest and patrol the streets at night preventing crime? What condition would our cities be in?
What if no husband or wife agreed to fight fires when they happened, or drive ambulances, or place themselves at the scenes of accidents or domestic abuse calls? Who would help us?
Thankfully we live in a world where men and women get up every day and decide to not only place their own lives on the line, but also to upset the stability of their family life. They bravely go forward in the individual calling they possess and serve the greater good despite the risks involved. I have the privilege of serving in just one capacity of public service, and as a nurse seeing the many, many lives impacted for the better tells me it is worth it.
I suppose it is just part of the job after all.