Indeed, I did find myself feeling that way in later nursing jobs. Not to the extent I had hoped for, but enough to reinforce to me that sometimes choosing happiness means making tough decisions, like leaving a job. Happiness is a choice. I'm not always good at it because the choice is actually made up of lots of little choices- what to accept and what not to accept. What to strive for and what to leave to dreams. Who to associate with and who to avoid. The choices are endless. But I've concluded that the most important decision is how to gracefully accept the consequences.
I was a wreck when I left The Forefront. I was waking up with panic attacks and nightmares in the middle of the night. I had an ulcer and often felt too sick to eat. I was depressed and feeling trapped. I felt outright used and devalued. The sexual harassment was wreaking havoc on me emotionally. I was almost certain that I would never work in nursing again for a zillion bucks. I've even said I wouldn't send my worst enemy there.
Some of what I picked up along the way has stuck in a detrimental way- I second guess my clinical judgment in a paralyzing way and always feel that sense of clinical isolation to some degree. Some of it has become comical- I hoard supplies in my pockets (flushes, alcohol swabs, and certain needles) because you have to assume resupply only happens in the morning. And that "resupply" won't be sufficient. That's a neurosis borne only from desperate situations without basic supplies. I'm slowly unlearning it. But some of what I learned is helpful too- the deep value of friends at work. Or that medicine is not an exact science and the art is just as important. Often, the art is more important because it may be all we can offer- hope, compassion, and presence.
Good, bad, or otherwise, I came away from The Forefront understanding that despite the personal relationships with coworkers and managers, a hospital is still an entity acting in its own best interests. I will emphatically state that some hospitals are much better than others about showing appreciation and taking an active interest in their workers, and I've had the honor of working in several outstanding ones. But the truth is that when it comes down to it, hospitals are self-preserving just like we are. When I've had to leave good jobs, I sometimes have to console myself with the knowledge that, within reason, I have to actively put my best interests ahead of my hospital's. Believe it or not, that was perhaps the biggest obstacle I had when leaving The Forefront. It's pathetically comical now, but it was a big deal to me then. The decisions to leave the latter two hospitals are still a big deal to me because they treated me well. Knowing how good I had it made it tougher still. They are self-preserving hospitals (as any good business model will be), but I genuinely cared for and wanted to give back to that community.
Was I, am I, overreacting to my experience at The Forefront? I've thought a lot about that in the two years since leaving. I don't want to be bitter and vindictive. To be fair, people react uniquely to their environment. Not surprisingly then, many people didn't (and don't) respond so strongly to working at The Forefront. But I did, and I stand by my reasons, if not completely behind my own emotions. This entry isn't to expound upon those reasons or offer up unsolicited advice about how the hospital should be handled (though it obviously doesn't take much to get me going).
This is the first I've really written about the whole experience, and you can hopefully see why. But reading things like this and this are surprisingly vindicating and relieving. It isn't an "us versus them" thing to me anymore, and there are few clear cut "correct" choices. Perhaps The Forefront deserves a little pity and even hope? Sadly, I'm not there yet. Those are tasks I'll delegate to you, dear readers. For my part, I'll try returning back to the old "if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."
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