My client was transported to the hospital today.
The hunky paramedics — “what’s your role here?”
Me — “I’m just her caregiver.”
Today marks three months on the job. Some days, I do feel like a visiting angel. Other days, like today, I’m a fraud in scrubs. I have no credentials and no experience unless being a mom counts for something. But I’m catching on to this whole caregiver thing. — You either make it or you don’t. Sink or swim baby.
So far, I’ve been swimming.
I’ve gotten great reviews, clients often ask me to come back and damn it feels good to be helpful. But I am just a caregiver. I have nightmares about stopping at Target after work and someone needing help. Everyone’s face is stricken with panic and staring at me to save a life.
I freeze like a deer in headlights and wake up in a cold sweat.
Between you, me and the dollar spot, it sure does feel good to walk around in those scrubs and play dress up. I get a kind of respect that I’ve never experienced while being a stay at home mom. The thing is, I don’t deserve that respect. I’m not a doctor, a nurse or anything close to it. Yet.
There is a slight chance I’m putting too much pressure on myself. — It’s only been three months. But I’m hungry. I’m hungry for more knowledge, more schooling and if I’m being totally honest with you, more money. When people need help, I want to be the answer they are looking for.
Thank you for listening ❤
Previously published on medium
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