A friend of mine on Facebook posted this about her day on Thanksgiving.   Please take the time to read……

I want to share this somewhere:

I worked a 16 on Thursday. I left my driveway at 520am and pulled out of the parking lot at work at 1230am the following day. It was a long one. (TWSS…. haha). Anywho, I have always liked working holidays in healthcare. There is a sacred holiness to the days. Special things always happen. And every now and then, a miracle happens.
*sigh* At 1015am, a “medical emergency” was called. Med.E’s are called a few times a day in the jail…. no big deal. Our census rolls close to 3,000 people on a daily basis and stuff happens: falls, seizures, traumas on the basketball court, fights, diabetic hypoglycemeic episodes, intractable vomiting, psychotic breaks or hyperventilation with alkalosis…. and, sometimes cardiac arrest.
For whatever reason, on Thanskgiving, two ER nurses, two veteran hospital nurses, a seasoned and technically experienced LPN and the jail medical director were all scheduled and present at work… and when the code was called, all those people responded. Nobody ever knows what a medical emergency holds in store, but on Thanksgiving, all those people showed up, willing to do ‘whatever’.
Well, “whatever” was what we encountered: 46yo black male face down in a puddle of blood on the gym floor… unresponsive, pulseless, not breathing, and dead.

James was dead.

I could bore you with a very descriptive scene from a medical drama…. but that isn’t the point. We did every thing right…. we used the ambubag with O2 to push air into dead lugs, we circulated oxygenated blood with chest compressions, and we applied the pads and the AED decided to shock this guys heart. Someone also called EMS.

By the time EMS arrived, James was breathing on his own with a pulse and a blood pressure in the 100’s.

James is not dead anymore.

Yesterday, James was sitting up in bed — schackled, mind you — but sitting up in bed and laughing and talking and telling jokes.

It doesn’t matter if I am where I am supposed to be for the rest of my life and it doesn’t matter if I’m living out my passion or if I’m just some high paid a** wiper and pill pusher in a rough and nasty and dirty repository of all the evil in the world, surrounded by degenerates and faced daily with the eyes of killers…
None of that matters. All I know is that on Thanksgiving Day, I showed up at work where I was supposed to be with the expectation of a miracle… and a miracle happened.

I’ll tell you this to share some hope:
Even if you aren’t where you think you want to be, you are where you are supposed to be.
For now.
Wake up everyday ready to be part of somebody’s miracle.
Your impact on the world is much bigger than you know.

Tom here – read that last part again……

”Even if you aren’t where you think you want to be, you are where you are supposed to be.
For now.
Wake up everyday ready to be part of somebody’s miracle.
Your impact on the world is much bigger than you know.”