I Don't Like Getting Up in the Morning

I got to wondering the other day while I was driving into work:  Do I have to look forward to going to work in order to enjoy what I do?

 

I mean, I can tell you that this particular morning I wasn't remotely excited about going there.  It was a typical morning for me: my cell phone blared off at about 530 am to the tune of "Give me back that Filet of Fish" (don't ask); I hit the illuminated snooze button; dozed back off; woke again to the same jarring tune; reluctantly climbed out of bed; showered (I think); dressed (I know); then drove to work with bottled Frappuccino in hand.   

 

Enter now a wandering mind on auto-pilot while driving to work.  It's not exactly texting while driving, but I'm not sure I recall much about the drive there.  I was feeling whiney.  I didn't want to be out of bed.  It's not that I was dreading being at the hospital -- it's that I dreaded being out of bed.  Whine, whine, whine. 

 

I am not a morning person.  If you are, I despise you, because you are cheery in the morning.  That hurts my head before I've pumped up with caffeine.  Okay, maybe I don't despise you; I envy you.  But either way!

 

Ultimately, I ended up getting to where I was going.  I parked, realizing I hadn't come up with an answer to my own question.  Shrugging, I strolled towards the hospital, lost instead in the beautiful Carolina morning.  A few hours later, I was shuffling around the Intensive Care Unit, participating in rounds with the physicians, providing feedback on weaning strategies to residents, describing modes of ventilation to a nursing student, and the answer finally surfaced. 

 

I absolutely, positively, love what I do.  I don't enjoy every task I am required to perform (something about nasotracheal suctioning patients has never met my fancy) nor every experience I have (I absolutely can't stand vomit -- the sound, smell, or taste -- long story).  I don't even enjoy getting out of bed early in the morning. 

 

But ultimately it is all worth it, it isn't just what I do for a living: It is who I have become.  I don't "do" Respiratory Therapy; I "AM" a Respiratory Therapist.  Is it the same for you? Do you declare with pride that you are a Respiratory Therapist, or are you dreaming of what you'll do in a few years when you move along?  Do what your heart loves . . . don't waste your life.  Reignite your passion.  You ARE a Respiratory Therapist!