Pulse

Carson. R.N.

        I wake up to wet, slobbery kisses on my face. As I slowly open my blue eyes and stretch, Charlie jumps on me, immediately squishing me and causing the wind to be knocked out of me. Being woken up by having a one hundred fifty pound dog jumping onto my lap is not how I imagined being woken up this morning. I use all my muscles to push Charlie off of me. Josh, always the perfect gentleman, left at some point last night after I fell asleep, leaving me a note instructing me to call him later.

I get up and let Charlie outside quickly before going to use the bathroom.  As I stand in the bathroom, I look in the mirror, taking myself in. My dark brown hair is a disaster from me falling asleep with it wet, and my wide baby blue eyes look too big for my face, creating an interesting combination to look at. Leave it to me to constantly criticize myself. I brush my hair and throw it up in a bun, not bothering to look at it. I get my school books and laptop and try to motivate myself  to start my research paper I have due. But no matter how hard I try, I can't focus. Instead, I find myself day dreaming about the touch that belongs to a blue green eyed man. That's how I spend my day, sitting at my computer unable to focus, too busy being distracted by the memory of a handsome man.

           The next few weeks fly by. I have had no more encounters with strangely beautiful men. Or one beautiful man to be specific. I'm not going to lie, I did keep a look out for him when I was on campus, but there was no sighting of him. While it's probably for the better that I have not seen him, considering I was a mumbling idiot when I ran into him, I can't help but be disappointed every time I don't see him. The March air is cool and brisk, but it helps wake me up as I walk through the parking lot into work.

The are several reasons why I became a nurse. I want to make a difference in people's lives and being a nurse allows me to do that. When I was twelve, my parents were hit by a drunk driver. My mother was declared dead on arrival, but my father was rushed to the hospital in critical condition. Not long after arriving to the hospital, he passed. I want to try and save as many people as I can. I feel like I owe it to my parents. Maybe I could help to save someone else's loved ones from a similar fate. There's another reason why I wanted to become a nurse. I also became a nurse to help identify child abuse. There were so many times when growing up in foster care I sat the the Emergency room with broken bones silently pleading for someone to help me, to recognize that these people sitting next to me were responsible for my injuries and the scars I have today. But no one ever did. I like to think that maybe I can help someone else who is suffering from a similar situation.

I wouldn't change one thing in my past, it's made me who I am today. It's made me a nurse who loves her job and strives to make a difference. I want to make difference in someone else's life who might not be as fortunate as me.

       The night goes by slowly, the minutes dragging on. 3:30 am. Despite how much I love my job, I still count down the hours until my shift is over. Especially when the ER is slammed as it is tonight. I am about to go check on my patients when my best  friend Bethany's voice interruptes me.

           "We got a trauma victim en route. 29 year old male police officer who was shot, the paramedics are saying it's bad and he is hemorrhaging. Get room 3 ready and have a team ready at the door!"

             I rush to the supply room and begin collecting supplies I think we might need when all the commotion starts. I can feel my adrenaline surge as the change in the atmosphere becomes palpable. The paramedics are rushing the gunshot victim through the door as I grab the supplies I have gathered and run across the room. I am a few feet away from them when I  finally visual the patient. I stop immediately in my tracks and almost trip over my feet.

          "This cannot be happening" I mumble under my breath. I quickly gather myself and continue walking towards the man who has been consuming my thoughts and dreams the past few weeks. Get a grip Carson. When I finally get to the bedside, they are stripping him out of his shirt. I am able to notice a wound to the left of his chest, blood pouring out of it and down his chest, seeping into the sheets underneath him and staining the white sheets red. His eyes are open as he rests his head back against the stretcher, slowly taking in the team that is rushing towards him. His eyes close briefly, grimacing in pain. Eventually they open and  settle on me as he realizes I am standing at his bedside. All the air leaves my lungs as he stares at me, his eyes meeting mine, never wavering.