I often forget just how lucky and privileged I am to have a job that I love. It’s not an easy job. I get abused, assaulted, criticised. I see people get hurt. I see people at their absolute worst. Mental health issues, drug issues, alcohol issues. I see pain, suffering, loss. And I’m expected to shoulder it all and be the one that others look to for support and for answers. I’m accused of being unfair when I am being fair. I am accused of being aggressive when I’m being firm. I’m accused of being uncaring when I am concerned.
I’ve been punched, kicked, spat at, screamed at, sworn at, insulted, threatened. I’ve been told I’m useless, a bully, a bastard. I’m disrespected at every turn, yet I continue to turn out and continue to do my duty. I’m viewed with suspicion and held to account. I sometimes get it wrong and I deal with the consequences of that. I more often than not get it right. When there is danger it’s me who runs towards it whilst you run from it.
I’m a nurse, a paramedic, a social worker, a psychologist, a support worker, a diplomat, a fighter, a protector, a driver, an investigator, a counsellor. I am the shield, I am the shepherd, I am the one who stands in harm’s way.
I do not want laurels, I do not wish for plaudits. I don’t need them. I love what I do and consider it an honour to serve. If only everyone was so lucky.
If you love what you do then you’ve made it. You don’t need to make huge amounts of money. The real reward is in the knowledge of a job well done. If you can get satisfaction from your vocation, hold on to that as best you can, because that’s privilege.
Love what you do.
