Things that make me go UGHHH

I've been thinking lately. It's been twelve days of this. Which may be enough to call it a permanent thought. I need to quit my job.

I went to Film Kitchen a few weeks ago. It's something I like to do with a few select friends (and sister and brother o' mine, should they be in town). It's a little monthly movie night, which for 5 bucks gets you food, popcorn, beer, and an hour and a half of local filminess presented by neighboring Pittsburghers. This month's was a showcase of snapshots (artfully pieced together and dubbed over) by a few of the major newspapers here. The one documentary I can't seem to get out of my head went something like this:

On May 2 (yeeeaaaaah buddy!) last year, the Children's Hospital located by my current workplace closed. It moved to a bigger, better, newer, more colorful building in Lawrenceville (1,000,000 times more appealing than Oakland, dreaded Oakland). What this means is that not only do the beds, diagnostic equipment, linens, charts, bath supplies, computers, and monitoring systems have to move, but the patients and nurses do too! That's something I hadn't actually thought about. There was a systematic way of doing it, and I have only a very small grasp of how it was done. The move was talked up for awhile before the big day finally came. Each patient had a personal ambulance that took him and his nurse to the new facility, about two miles away. The documentary that has infested my thoughts presented the cutest little trached toddler and his mother, as well as the nurse taking care of them over a several day/several week span. I'll leave out the details of this boy's illness. I'll insert a bit about the joy on his face, the eagerness to get better, the motivation, and the uplifting atmosphere. Not all cases with pediatric health are like this experience, I am very well aware of that. I am also very aware of the fact that children tend to be smaller than 260 pound rude, incontinent older adults, i.e. they are way easier to provide bedside care for. This actually may be directly related to the reasons I don't particularly care for my job. I don't know. Should I go to outpatient? A physician's office? Insurance agency? I'm not ready to quit the field. That's not what's supposed to happen. All I'm saying is, once upon a time, I had an idea that included taking care of little kids. And this idea disappeared until a Post Gazette photographer reminded me of that old resurrected wish.

Then again, who likes being low man on the totem pole all over again anyway?