Work, work, work, work


Guys I hate my job.

I hate that my job exists. That children have had their childhood robbed by sickness. That hospitals, needles, pain, surgeries, and bags fulls of medicine are normal for them. The fact that relapses happen makes me mad. I hate that families have had time stolen from them, siblings have had to take a back seat, and marriages are strained.

Guys, I love my job.

I love that on some days I get to play. My childhood has been extended for a while and I don’t have to adult. I get to be a part of a child’s imagination- their wish. From meeting celebrities, to playing in the snow. From shopping sprees, to Disney all day everyday. From therapy items, to all the PS4 games you can imagine. I get to witness joy being brought to life. To view hope growing. To see what once was weak, be strong.

This gift is so much more than me, it’s so much more than a day or a week of fun. It’s the days, weeks, months leading up to the wish where a child and family can think about all the details and what the wish will be like. It’s all the days after where they can look back on the memories and joy had during the wish. More than half of parents, and health professionals have seen a turning point in treatment when a wish starts. The emotional health of the child also improves drastically. It’s more than a day- it’s more than a week- it’s more than a memory.

Some days I have to remind myself that I love my job. Some days I have to take a mental/ emotional break and step back to recover. Sometimes it’s difficult to care. Other days it’s hard not to care too much. I work for a day when my job doesn’t have to exist. I pray for each child, family, doctor, nurse, facility whose name comes across my desk- for treatment to be successful, for a cure, for their future, and for them to know Peace.

Today is one of those days where I had to step back and breathe. To breathe in and out, and then continue on because, today, my job still exists.



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