Just a Fan

Small Steps

Where we find peace

One of the best places in New York is definitely the rooftop garden of an abandoned hotel on a rougher side of town. It's not the ideal walking area, but the garden... the scent of the flowers is so fragrant that it covers up the stench of the garbage in the alley below. There's a small pond that have attracted some birds and cats. A tree shadows a concrete bench with just enough height that a person can still see the faintest stars despite the city lights.

This garden isn't Peter's. He doesn't belong here, laying down with his mask in his hand as the cold concrete bench soothes the aches of his muscles. He should probably still be hurdling through the city, patrolling. But he's tired. He's worn out after the hours of drifting from street to street, from having to be braver than he feels.

Here? No one calls for him. No one expects anything from him. No one judges him. Peter knows he'll have to go back soon, but for now (as a cat rubs its head against his hand) he's calming down. He's taking a well deserved break, because this is where he finds peace.

Road Rage Bell

Does it look like a disaster?

I wound up having to decorate 3 sets of cake slices, so.. I kind of just played around with it. Kind of boring to make them all the same? But I'm really not a decorator. I just eat cakes, okay?

TW: personal loss

This hasn't been the kind of Christmas I wanted or hoped for. I thought the first two patient deaths were hard enough. Dying alone on the holiday, no family by their side - just a nurse or CNA if they happen to be gowned up at the time.

I thought seeing patients unaware of the world as machines breathe for them, family unable to visit or hold their hands was hard enough.

I didn't realize that I would be on the outside, unable to be there for a loved one as they struggled to breathe. I didn't know that I was going to be one of the ones who received those horrible phone calls that make you realize just how powerless you are. I couldn't be there to hold their hand. I couldn't talk to them as they slipped away. They died alone, amongst strangers, without knowing how much we wanted to be there, without knowing how much we cared.

Fuck 2020.

Coworker (M): Do you want to have sex?

(The Hidden Ace) (They): -deadpans- No.

Ensure to give me some calories for the next 4-5 hours of work. Luckily not an insanely busy day, but I definitely want to be at home, resting.

I'm so tired of not having a life. I work 12-13 hours in one day, I get the next day off, I work 12-13 hours in one day, I get the next day off, etc.... And it's on my feet for miles. I can walk 10 miles in one day.

I'm exhausted... I don't think this is much of a life.

Just a little update about me?

Meh.

I'm what people these days have been calling a "hero". I don't feel like it. I feel overworked, underpaid, understaffed, and frayed at the seams. If I'm not asleep, I'm simply "not dead".

Almost everything about work is stressful and depressing. How badly do I want to be there? I think about that often. Reading the news and running errands is a stressful addition. No mask? No social distancing? Partying? I might be seeing -you- later.

I'm a "hero", but I'm not one of the ones you see in the limelight. My coworkers and I aren't going to be the focus of a news story. Most people might not even know much of what we do. Nurses and doctors get food from local venues donated to them. I'm proud of them.

I'm not one of them.

I'm invisible. I'm struggling. I'm doing everything I can.

But maybe... it's passed time to "Thank a hero" and time instead to "Help a hero".

To the outside world, we may look more calm, but we're all struggling and stressed. And those that are invisible like me? We feel we have only ourselves to rely on. We're falling.