Nomadic Nurse Diaries

Dear Universe-Do-Over Gods,

So, here we are—moldy van, homesick heart, and all. If there’s a button to reset this whole adventure, I’d love to press it right about now. This week had all the greatest hits: condescending coworkers, late-night calls to providers over non-emergencies, and more unsolicited advice from people who have zero clue about nursing. But let’s focus on a gem of an interaction: a certain officer who decided he knew my job better than I do. Apparently, he’s got opinions about us “bad nurses” and our work ethic. Yet he took it upon himself to promise an inmate a specific medication without having any knowledge of his chart. Thanks to his medical expertise, I had to call the provider at midnight over an issue that wasn’t urgent, just so he wouldn’t look like a fool. And guess who looks unprofessional now? Yours truly. Fun times.

This whole situation has been a mental tug-of-war lately. On one hand, I’ve extended my contract, partly to explore a different unit and partly out of stubbornness (I refuse to let a few annoying people push me out). But the longer I stay, the more I wonder: why am I even considering buying a property close to this place? It’s isolated out here; my “community” consists of coworkers who only recently started acting decent. Plus, the thought of putting down roots here feels like a financial and emotional weight I’m not sure I want to carry. The idea of taking on that kind of commitment—especially with my mental health swinging back and forth on whether I actually like working here—makes me question everything.

And to top it all off, van life has hit a low point. Winter’s creeping in, and I’m starting to feel like I’m living in a fridge. Mold has become my new roommate, and no matter how many times I scrub and dry, it’s like I’m fighting a losing battle. I keep thinking about the open road, the urge to leave all this behind, but there’s a contract with my name on it that says otherwise.

So here I am, wondering if there’s a way to reset my expectations instead. Maybe this isn’t the life I had in mind, but it’s the one I’ve got. And even though I’m frustrated and lonely and, yes, homesick, I’m still here. Maybe I can’t change the irritating coworkers or the freezing temperatures, but I can at least try to change my outlook. Besides, if I can survive late-night provider calls and mold wars, maybe I’m tougher than I think.

But seriously, Universe, if that reset button is lying around somewhere… now would be a great time.

— Your exhausted, mold-battling, sarcasm-fueled Nomadic Nurse