why my scrubs don't fit.....

Why my scrubs don't fit....
When I presented this theory to my husband, he said it was brilliant and I should write that down. This was after a conversation about how I needed new scrubs because the ones I have are worn out and don't fit because they shrunk in the dryer. He said to me, "Baby, I am sure that the dryer is the reason that the scrubs you have been wearing for the last 6 months don't fit." Followed with a knowing smile, as we both glance towards the elliptical in our bedroom that has also been there for 6 months, and I can recount on less than 2 hands how often I have frequented. But wait, there are reasons for this that are my fault, but for a noble cause I assure you.

I work in the ER. Which means I wear scrubs every day I work. And I work long stretches, I don't put on my cute jeans or a bathing suit. I do look in the mirror briefly as I throw on a little makeup that I will later touch up at redlights between my house and the hospital doors. We women who are ER nurses, mid-levels,and doctors will tell you that the worst feeling is when you wake up to go to work and realize your scrubs don't fit. We talk about it with each other and we all know why they don't fit and it is frustrating. They are scrubs. The equivalent of pajamas with a draw string. They do not hug your curves. and so it takes time to get to the point where they don't fit, at least 15 pounds by our estimation after a recent poll of my peers.
Sure we all have access to ellipticals and treadmills and our male counterparts see this unfold and at times will even cook healthier options for us to consume, contrary to the donuts and fast food that seems to be an ER theme.

Your scrubs don't fit because of the patient bolus in triage, or the crying child that signed in 2 hours ago that you know would take you 15 minutes to get taken care of with a couple of stiches or more often, some much needed parent education. or the nursing home patient that should have been a DNR DNI 10 years ago but no one talked to the family or the patient before today, and the demented nursing home patient is repetitively asking for help because they are trapped in their own mind with no real awareness and you just feel the respect of who they used to be and why no one protected them from such an endless end. or the high school football player with a broken finger on his dominant hand that needs a quick procedural reduction so that he is capable of realizing his high school quarterback dream, and it would only take an extra 20 minutes for you to help connect the dots. after all, if that was your child, you would want someone to do the same. or the DOA that never had a chance that EMS couldn't call at the scene because they took one last gasp, so you call it when they roll through the doors, and it's done, but the family is still 30 minutes out and the shift change would handle it beautifully, but would be unable to say, "i was here and we did everything we could, but your mother died." Don't they deserve to hear it from the one that was here? But that means 30 more minutes and that means not making it home on time, and that means reaching for the donuts or the back up diet coke just to stand in the gap. It is the ER. It is about respect for the dead and the living. It's about doing the right thing. It's about going the extra mile. It's about being what you were called to be because to whom much is given, much is required. It's in the Bible. It's what we do. And we would never trade it. From the housekeeping staff that cleans the rooms to the doctor that spends three hours saving a life, to the midlevel that keeps the ball rolling in the background to the charge nurse that puts out one more fire to avoid patient complaints, and the unit secretary that anticipates all of our thoughts and moves for us prior to our asking, to the PCA who did the compressions so long that it wasn't until the next day when their shoulders ached they realized the code went so long, and stretches on and on to the last minute of your shift where you know you are supposed to go home right then because the patients tomorrow deserve a rested provider...and in the midst of all of this madness, we linger at the turn of that clock and realize we are exhausted and may fall asleep on the way home to our families, so we reach again for that last vending machine product that is comforting in a way because we know how sugar works and after all, it's about safety for the drive home, right? I am not complaining at all, as none of us are, but if the reason my scrubs are tight are a result of the events above, then maybe we should have a 24 hour fruit and vegetable bar with a weight watcher's representative that just sneaks healthy snacks into our world without judgement or questions because they have been informed why are scrubs don't fit and they know that although we are smart women who know all about healthy choices, our hearts are too big to choose ourselves above our patients or our colleagues, and maybe we will spend less time trying to find new scrubs and more time celebrating the age old truth that women are emotionally driven and will jump in without regard for our health or well being if it means one more patient is taken care of....and although they do not say it aloud, we can always see in the faces of our male counterparts that it is ok to let go, someone else will clock in behind you and handle it the way you would. And when we let go and trust that simple truth, our scrubs fit. That and the weight watcher's representative would put us in magazines. Still, as women, we must learn to balance our worlds with less doubt in trusting others and more confidence in the prayers we pray on the way to work and on the way home....Dear God, please use me today. Send me the right patients. And don't let me kill anybody." PS- put the scrubs on sale just in case....