“Mourning Dove Bailing,” Bob MacInnes/ via Flickr.

I’m exhausted and shaky, and the “pssssht!” sound of the pneumatic doors of the ER closing behind me on the way out sounds final, and just fine. I didn’t used to feel this way when I worked in the ER. Of course, that was at the other end, the beginning, of my nursing career, when I was young(er) and callous and every code was a challenge and a rush—as if the people were characters in a play, and I got to join in each evening. I hadn’t a clue what they were going through. Now, 30 years and two dead parents, a dead best friend, and a score of minor players later, I’m beginning to understand. I suspect that this glimmer of connection and compassion is what makes hospice nursing sometimes so draining. […]