So About That Day at Work...

I believe I've written about this before, and I suspect I shall, someday, write about it once again.

TOPIC: My job (supervise a secure, residential treatment center for teens and young adults) 

Often this job is what I imagine most jobs to be like: irritating, stressful, not something I particularly LOVE to do, but I'm decent at it and have the required skills to perform the necessary duties. I think most people on the planet don't LOVE what they do. I think most of us have coworkers that irritate us, things about the job we wish we could change but can't....the usual stuff. 

Then there's this reality: the kids I with whom I currently are tough. I don't mean "I've had a rough year or two" tough, I mean the, "I've been kicked out of all the foster homes, and all the treatment centers, and this is my last stop before long-term, permanent institutionalization of one form or another unless I get a grip REALLY soon," tough. They are lower functioning, seriously hurt and broken kids.

It is not an easy job, but I don't think any job really is. There aren't many perks. That having been said, I can't see myself working in customer service or doing something with computers. It's this or nursing and I know that I'll probably end up doing psych in that field as well. 

So...about my day...Today was weird at work. I got hurt on the job. Being hit or punched is not picnic. Being spit on is extremely unpleasant. Being scratched stings and the wounds tend to re-open on me for some reason. Being sliced open by a broken toilet was pretty much crap-tastic (get it??) Being sexually harassed makes me want to crawl into a black hole and never come out. 

But being bit takes the cake for me. I HATE being bit. And today...I got bit. 

(That's my left forearm, right at the wrist. The teeth marks had faded by this point.) 

I have a few friends who do not work in the field. They can't understand how I didn't clock the girl in the head. Some of them are angry with her. I will admit, my initial reaction was to punch her, but...I value my job and having a steady source of income, so I didn't. Immediately following the incident, I was REALLY mad. Then I cooled off and realized...not mad...just sad for her. And for the girl who attacked the biter that caused her to go ape-shit, and then bite me while I attempted to control her. And sad for me a little bit too. 

Today work hurt, for a few people. And not just physically. Today, work is sad to me. And that's ok to be sad about it for everyone involved.

The doctor who checked me out told me my arm was going to be on fire in a couple of hours due to minor but deep nerve damage. She told me I needed blood work done to make sure I have not been exposed to blood born pathogens, and a tetanus shot as well.

The nice and gentle doctor also told me I'm an angel for working where I do, which made me chuckle. My mental image of angels, especially the guardian types of angels, is NOT the typical "white robed, winged, harp playing" types of things. Guardian angels, in my humble opinion, are the angels who chose to slum it. 

In my mind, they look more like this: 

(For the record I am fully aware that these two are characters from the "Death" graphic novels by Neil Gaiman, but in my mind this is what guardian angels look like.) 

So...why the dark and brooding stuff instead of the cliche "clad in all white" angel? You ever seen where guardian angels have to hang out? Trust me...after a life time or two of that stuff, you'd be all dark and brooding too. Being an labeled an "angel" just made me laugh, but not in a light hearted, "golly thanks" kind of a way. More like a slightly cynical cackle. 

Maybe we (my coworkers and I) are angels. Who knows. But if we are then I will tell you this: angels swear a lot, they cry often, they wear a lot of sweatshirts and jeans and chuck taylor tennis shoes. They may have some questionable ways of coping with the realities of their life's calling but they try really hard to use healthy coping skills. They are pretty jaded and have a rather dark sense of humor that others my find appalling. They understand the complexities behind bites and scratches and being called names. They struggle to make peace with it pretty much every day. Sometimes they can. Other times...not so much. But overall, they keep doing the job because frankly...anything else would make them feel like they'd stepped into the wrong skin. They are tough, kind, caring, bitchy, mean, loving beings. 

Anyway...today was a rough one. I need a pizza and some pain meds, a long hot shower, and bed. 

And a hug.