A compass?

I have no clue where I'm going. For the first time in a very long time, I have no game plan, no sense of purpose. My goals are the obvious ones - get better, regain my physical mobility, get back to work. Will such a tall order you'd think I would be super motivated, with pom poms and cheering routine down pat. If anything, what I am is completely fucking overwhelmed. This upheaval is the biggest thing I have ever faced and I am scared to death about what happens next. I had, hopefully, my last invasive surgery last week - they took all the metal hardware out of my back, as a precaution against the MRSA that plagued my body last fall. The only way to know for sure that the infection is gone is to get rid of all foreign bodies, as MRSA likes to stick to such bodies, and take shelter there. In my case, it is the surgical rods, screws and metal that has held my spine and pelvis together all this time which has come out. It is odd that the metal which kept my spine and pelvis together and preserved it'd form and structure should also house an infection which threatened to compromise my general health and recovery.
All the swabs of the infected site they took during surgery are coming back negative so it is looking as if I may have beaten this invader, at least on a physical level. Emotionally, well, that's another game altogether.
You'd think that my being a nurse would motivate me to be cheery and upbeat, at least, that is what much of the status quo thinks. That because I've seen people at their worst I should be grateful for what I've survived. My nursing friends who you'd think were the most compassionate are blessedly ignorant to how being a patient truly feels as they navigate through our health care system. My colleagues are so detached from the tragedy in front of them, none of it permeates the barrier around them. I know this because I felt it too, when I was one of them once upon a time.
At the camping trip before the surgery Erick and I hung out with various people, meeting some of the new staff and being ignored by the others whose names we didn't bother to listen to either. One of the occupational health nurses from work called me today to get an upsate on my return to work status. I had to explain my injury and accident again, state my injuries and why they were preventing me from coming back to work. I wasn't sure how "I can't return to work yet because the mere thought of having to stand beside emergencies unfolding makes me want to scream" would go down. Fortunately the sound of her questions and the clackity clack of the keyboard keys as she typed out what I said verbatim made me realize that she was merely looking for something to put on my file as way of update. No hassle on dates or ideas, merely confirmation that I am still too ill to return to work and laying the necessary ground work for whenever that day should arrive.
The thought of not being being able to go back to emergency nursing is odd as the ER was where I very firmly wanted to be come graduation. And my experience in the ER is unrivaled in terms of being an incredible learning opportunity for both book and practical knowledge. The PR skills one learns in the ER is paramount to learning patience and control when dealing with patients, their family and the general public. Now, having seen and experienced the ER from the perspective of a patient, I can empathize and recognize the issues of being a patient in crisis.
While i was on the orthopedic unit recovering from the hardware removal, the manager of the neighbouring Trauma unit came to see me. I got to know her quite well during my initial stay in hospital. She was enemy number one during the MRSA infection as she had to make the difficult decision concerning room assignment, and due to there not being enough rooms, I was segregated to an "MRSA ward" where myself and two men were housed because we had MRSA. My family and I argued, begged and fought against my moving to the ward but Mary wouldn't budge. She did however become an ally as I tried to go to rehab, and when I couldn't go due to a drug reaction she came to see me quickly, formed a list of my most pressing issues, and had a new mattress to my room so I could be more comfortable, and came to see me through the course of the week.
Mary and I caught up and eventually the reason for her visit was discussed. St Mike's holds an annual Trauma conference, and Mary proposed that I put together a talk based on my experiences at SMH, especially as I was in the unique position of being an ER nurse by trade. I want to do something to help other trauma patients who have the misfortune to go through what I did and the opportunity to speak to a room full of doctors, nurse and other health care professionals seems to be a good starting point. Public speaking has always been a phobia of mine. The last few minutes leading up to my time to talk and the first five minutes in are pure torture but once I find my groove I usually begin to enjoy myself. I hope this works out as I think it could bring some closure, inform my fellow nurses and perhaps help a trauma survivor in the future.
As this recovering continues on I am hoping that the game plan will reveal itself. Until then, I've got nothing to guide me except my body's healing and the restructuring of my mental faculties. Emotionally I am all over the place. Physically I seem to be improving, albeit slowly. Given the strength of my mind body connection I am hoping my body will be the guide in this unknown, turbulent journey. I have to trust the unknown. Bugger. Some days I barely trust myself!