Medicine remains one of those unfortunate fields, along with toll booth operation and police work, that always requires someone (in fact, many someones) to be working at night. As a medical student, you are sometimes subject to this unfortunate requirement, which disrupts sleep, social life, and all sense of time and being. As I enter into a stretch of working in the emergency room at night, I've grown accustomed to the shock, awe, and pity that folks express when they hear that I'll be getting OFF work at 7am. But while I do bemoan the loss of sleep, social life, and sense of time and being, there's some magical and awesome about working at night. The hospital, often a bustling busy place with any number of people rushing around, phones ringing, and orders and demands being made, becomes a quiet, calming, almost peaceful place. The dark of night is foreboding through the windows but underneath the florescent hum of artificial lighting, there's a special sense of meaning and belonging. The few walk the often busy halls with a sense of solace, alone with their thoughts. The silence is shocking and at first, unnerving. But soon it is also magical. This special place of healing, filled with hopes and dreams and fears and terror all day long, suddenly feels like a mystical castle.
And when only the sound of your footsteps fill the hallways, it's your castle. Sometimes you take a moment and realize that elsewhere in the city, people are at Friday night dinners, drinking with friends, seeing movies and plays, laughing, shouting joyfully, slamming down empty beer mugs. And it seems strange that in the middle of this flurry of nighttime activity, you are encompassed by such incredible silence.
For me, at least, there is no place that feels more safe than in the hospital. And at night, that feeling intensifies.
Furthermore, there is a special espirit de corps among night shift workers. Everyone is a little less hurried, a little more relaxed. No one is rushing home, anxious about being late seeing their family or loved ones because....everyone's family and loved ones are asleep. Many tests and consults have to wait until morning because THAT service doesn't work nights. There is suddenly permission to enjoy the moments of inactivity, when the ebb and flow of patient needs and demands is much more ebb than flow.
There's a lot of laughter at night. And I do love to laugh.
And when only the sound of your footsteps fill the hallways, it's your castle. Sometimes you take a moment and realize that elsewhere in the city, people are at Friday night dinners, drinking with friends, seeing movies and plays, laughing, shouting joyfully, slamming down empty beer mugs. And it seems strange that in the middle of this flurry of nighttime activity, you are encompassed by such incredible silence.
For me, at least, there is no place that feels more safe than in the hospital. And at night, that feeling intensifies.
Furthermore, there is a special espirit de corps among night shift workers. Everyone is a little less hurried, a little more relaxed. No one is rushing home, anxious about being late seeing their family or loved ones because....everyone's family and loved ones are asleep. Many tests and consults have to wait until morning because THAT service doesn't work nights. There is suddenly permission to enjoy the moments of inactivity, when the ebb and flow of patient needs and demands is much more ebb than flow.
There's a lot of laughter at night. And I do love to laugh.
