Dead Tired

Last night, I was so tired that I slept in a dead woman’s bed.  It’s sad and a little creepy, but true.  That’s what night duty does to you.  It makes you so tired that you will throw all of your fears and superstitions out the window for a few moments of shut-eye.  In my defense, the former patient had passed eight hours previously, the room thoroughly cleaned, and the linens changed, but still… it was a little spooky.  The thing is, I couldn’t help myself.  It was my third consecutive overnight shift and I was becoming delirious with fatigue.  I was beginning to get that light-headed, dizzy-sick feeling that only comes with staying up for way too long.  I had to take a nap.  It would have been dangerous for me not to; titrating drips with a half-functioning brain is not a good idea.  And believe me, her bed was not my first choice.  I first tried the usual hiding spots, but they were all taken.  Next, I investigated the other empty rooms, but none of them had beds.  My stomach sank as I quickly realized the dead woman’s bed was my only available option.  So, at 4am, with my brain fading fast, I did the unthinkable; I crawled into the deceased’s bed and drifted off into a brief and weirded-out sleep.  As strange and guilty as I felt about doing so, I’m really glad I did.  I needed those 30 minutes of sleep like a fish needs to get off dry land.  I woke up recharged and ready to tackle the remainder of my night.  I was a safer, better nurse for doing it.  I may still be brushing off the heebie-jeebies, but I’ll get over it.  Besides, I don’t think that little old lady minded sharing her final resting place.