“To see the world, things dangerous to come to, to see behind walls, draw closer, to find each other, and to feel. That is the purpose of life.” ~The Secret Life of Walter Mitty

It’s been a week, ladies and gents. It has been a week.

Quotes, such as the above, can sometimes be the regenerative breath of fresh air I starve for when the luster of adventure seems to dull. When the road bends and bumps instead of stretching endlessly into an artisan sunset. When I am prodded and pulled to the edges of my comfort zone.

This week has been the kind of week where I needed such reminders as to why I chose to do this.

To expound, I began my first week of my first travel job at a facility in Washington, D.C. I was trembling with excitement at the newness of it all: navigating the Metro system, walking amidst thousands of city dwellers, and of course, a new department with a new set of faces. I was welcomed warmly and with a note of sighing relief. It didn’t take long for me to realize that they were extremely short-staffed and starved for help. I won’t lie, I was flattered at the thought of being so needed. It made the work doubly rewarding; I was serving both patients and the department.

However, as with anything, there are always two sides and the other made its presence known quickly: due to the team being so spread thin, my training has been a sink-or-swim kind of situation.

Of course, this isn’t my first time doing this job. I had worked in the same kind of field and setting for two years before deciding to travel. There’s a foundation of knowledge and experience that I have exerted myself over building.

The trouble is that hospitals are fingerprints; they are their own entity. Loops of varying staff with whorls of patient demographics and arches of available resources make up a figurative hand reaching out into their community and each has its own way of doing so. There are a spectrum of systems, processes, and methods that each department adopts and to compare them is a task unto itself.

Instead of being steadily incorporated into all of this, I was tossed in.

Have I made mistakes this week? Oh, yes.

Have I had to ask for help? More than once.

Have I articulated more questions than answers? You betcha.

But that’s what I signed up for, right? To work. To perpetually be the new kid. To be wrong sometimes. To learn. To grow.

As I savor the rest of this Labor Day, I look forward into the week ahead. I don’t fear the mistakes. I don’t dread the struggle of recalling and recalling again. I don’t even dig in my heels at the thought of eventually leaving to start the process all over somewhere else.

Because, as I was so reminded this week, I am doing this to serve those in need cheerfully, not snatch the reward I feel I am due. I am here to love and to work up a sweat while doing it.

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