This week was no exception with one of the students at the school I work at dying. What was an already stressful week with major reports due turned into an emotionally stressful week. I don't deal all that well with emotional stress, especially the pain of others. It hurts me on the inside and raises all types of questions that I can't seem to answer.
I've been trying to counsel these teenagers when at times I don't feel I have it any more together than they do. How does being a nurse make me any more qualified to deal with it than the rest of the world. All my millions of lectures in palliative care seem useless with confronted with masses of backpack wearing teenagers. I haven't done anything to guide the deceased along a pathway of care. There's no pathway for drowning, there is just death in all its fullness.
The death of a teenager seems to make a mockery of all I feel I'm about. It tells me I can do as much as I'd like to get them healthy, promote safe sex and non risk taking behaviour and yet the most innocent of things steals life. All my talk about water and lunch and sleep and staying safe and talks about suicide seem useless and pointless. I realise I'm just Ginnie. I can't save the world after all. And everyone just seems so much more fragile.
