It’s been almost a year since I went back to work after my maternity leave. I know this because Ivy has just turned a year old. I spent three weeks doing my job then got farmed out to a clinic. Just as I was seeing the light at the end of the clinic time the manager at another clinic quit so once again I was still not going back to my job.
My time at that clinic began to seem like this never ending series of odd happenings. No one to hire, then an internal person, but to move her someone had to be hired to replace her. That person then taking longer than needed to train. Then, just after things seemed to settle we lost our Jamie, and I was back in the car driving through the city to get to work, only this time I knew I wanted to put myself out there.
Then another person taking the job and then just not showing up. Well all of these things and the five months I’d already spent at that clinic, cleaning it, organizing it, caring for the patients, getting to know so many of them and them getting used to me. The providers getting used to me and our routines, then figuring out I actually loved being there and I would miss it lead to a talk where I told the doc who owns the clinics if he would find someone to take later parts of the hours so I didn’t work 45 hours a week and seeing my kids lead to me getting, well I suppose it was a promotion(?) and a new chair. The chair is something everyone who walks into my (!) clinic must sit in. It’s legendary mostly because I’d only had to ask for it once and got it with out a blink.
Turns out, I didn’t even know I needed to do what I’m doing now. Is it stressful? Yes. Are the hours long? Sure. Does the fact that I’m in charge of a clinic, that all the problems (and yes the joys) are on my head and my head alone scare the living daylights out of me? Many days. But going into work and solving these problems, seeing and hearing people when I’ve helped them is a joy. I get embarrassed when I’m thanked because I’ve done what I see as the right thing, or just flat out my job.
I’ve been told the clinic now has my vibe, homey, welcoming and fun and a little quirky. The providers all like me and enjoy working with me. They know I care about their patients and will always work to do what I can to make sure their care is the best they can get. Even the doc who is known as a bit, erm, fussy. We joke, he teases. He thanks and he trusts me.
I’ve also learned some very important things. After Jamie died I saw without a doubt that the people I work with and for really are a family. We pulled together, helped each other and put ourselves out to each other to hug, talk and support each other. After the last several months I know, without a doubt, I work with a group of people that will, without stopping to even think, step up when the people they work with need it.
I would be missed if I left. I am appreciated and liked by the people around me. They also know I would miss them if they left. That I would step up for them and their patients. If I get a funny feeling, I step up and I get them. If there is a problem, I solve it and I’m thanked for it. A person can look for their whole lives and never find the satisfaction at their jobs I have. It’s a drive, it’s stressful, there is a lot of work and a lot of responsibility on my shoulders but the satisfaction at the end of my day when I know that for at least one person I’ve made a difference is well worth it. Even when Bug tells me to let dad help people so I can stay home and play with trains.