No, not like with a knife across the wrist. it was one of those small glass ampoules of something or other, that I shattered instead of opening properly and cut me. So I smiled at the uncle waiting for his meds (he hadn't seen the cut), then went to wash it and put a plaster. And put on a glove over that cos the bleeding wouldn't quite stop. Then gave the drug to the uncle, got scolded for making a mess of the IV set. And then brought a sick patient to ICU. And then did a thousand other things, big and small, that I don't remember anymore. And all these post-call.
And when I reach home and wash the dried blood off my finger, once again I wonder who cares for the carers. Or is it our fate to wear a smile over high pressure, 36 hour shifts, delivering care with competence and empathy after being harassed and sleep-deprived...like wearing a glove over a bloody finger?
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