croatoan-the-line:

empty-faygo-bottle:

shroom-goddess:

a-real-archaeopteryx:

I work in an ER and we see suicides all the time. And we get at least 3 suicidal ideations a night. We all care about you. I promise, we do. A team of complete strangers who have worked 3+ 12 hour shifts this week who are being screamed at all day and night and probably haven’t had lunch and trust me, we still love you and care about you.

We had a 16 year old patient last night who we couldn’t save. We were in that room with this patient for over an hour, we did everything we could.
And let me tell you, we all cried. The EMT’s, the nurses, the doctor. We all huddled together in the doctors dictation room and cried.

I went through the rest of my shift with smudged mascara and tracks on my cheeks.

I remember the names of all the patients that have taken their lives on my shifts.

I remember squeezing the hands, smoothing the hair, kissing the foreheads, and wiping away the blood and the vomit of every patient that has left me too soon.

I can still see every face that I have zipped into a body bag.

Trust me, someone cares about you. You have never met them yet. You don’t ever think about them. They are never remembered when you talk about heroes and role models.

But someone loves you.

damn….

This made me cry

When I was in hospital being seen to, being bandaged and sedated and surrounded by medical staff, my family was ignoring my calls, my friends hadn’t cared to check in. I felt terrified and hopeless and so very unimportant that it was taking everything it had in me to not drink the cleaning products left nearby by one of the cleaners, to make sure I finished the job properly.

There was a nurse though, who came into my room with a soft smile, who held my hand, who took away the bottles when she noticed me watching them for too long. There was a nurse that plugged in my phone to charge in case my family called back, that took away the bloody cloths the paramedics had left me with, that helped me put my hair up when it was sticking to my tear streaked face, because my arms were too sore to do it myself.

There was a nurse that saved my life twice in one night, who made me feel that I was worth being looked after, and her name was Emma and she was the most beautiful person I’ve met.

Months later, I was visiting my mother at the same hospital whilst she was incapacitated with back concerns. Whilst I sat and watched my mum sleeping, a nurse approached to check up on her. She met my gaze and she smiled immediately, face lit with recognition, and she said “oh my gosh, hey! How are you doing?”

People definitely do care about us even if we don’t think they do, and to the original poster?

Your faces are never forgotten either.

You’re more than heroes to me.