Yesterday was a most difficult day in the ER.

First of all, although I may never know the pain of losing one’s own child, I helped my single mother raise my siblings when I turned 13. However, if I was a nurse and my nine year old daughter came in through the ambulance bay while I was working, I would probably react just as my co-worker did.

Aside from the obvious grief, there are many indescribable things your mind tries to process as you see a code being performed on an innocent child. For me, as I fought back the tears and keep professional, I wondered whether or not I could check my feelings and be a confident nurse.

I used to want to work in the children’s cancer ward. After one week of volunteering, I knew my fragile heart would not have been able to bear seeing such loss. I am good with kids as long as they are not too sick. There is something abnormal in terms of adults surpassing the young. No matter what, we are supposed to take care of the helpless.

Every day I go to work, I pray hard that no one leaves their babies in their car, commit suicide, murder anyone, and all the other awful mistakes that could happen. I would rather people came in for stupid reasons.

When they covered her with the white blanket, I felt much difference. I have seen too many dead bodies and others as they drew their last breath. The weight that pulls on your heart, when you see someone that young leave, does enough damage only love can redeem.

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