The heroes we are not
Oluwaseun was inspired to write this piece after experiencing what it was like to work on the frontline with a tired team. She explores how when her colleagues and herself want to discuss issues that they face us as a staff group, people often make remarks that denies them a place to express their feelings in a safe space. This poem explores that frustration and the toll that it can take on already tired healthcare professionals, who really love what they do, but still want to be seen as people.
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Today, like any other day, I put my uniform on and wear the badge of hero, national treasure
The burden, the burden.
Has anyone stopped to look at the woman who wears the badge?
“I can’t be the only one”
I know I am not.
This hero, as human as she is, as every one of us is, chose to rise today
She chose to rise, work, and give.
I’m a little tired, but so is the woman who has been here for 8 hours with no answers in a room full of people she doesn’t know
“Am I carrying too much? Can I do more?
I wish I could I wish we could.”
We are all in this together; the comradery is incredible
I still smile and get excited at the thought of another day growing and serving
I still think it is a privilege
But my reserves are hollow barrels now
“We are very busy at the moment. I’m sorry it has taken so long for us to get to you”
I’ve said that too many times.
The woman, the man, the child, the being
They bring their fears here
Asking us to hold onto them with dignity and honour
I see them and carry them
But the problem is
I am human too
We all are
“We need to get this right and do better, we can’t have this for the patients”
That’s true,
You’re right but has anyone stopped to look at me? At all of us?
The people in the uniforms
We come with our perfectly flawed conceptions, personality traits, and tendencies
We come with our problems, our ideas, our brilliance
Our conflicts
We come with the wholeness of who we are
These things are what we serve with
Does anyone see that?
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We come with mistakes and through our reflections we rise up from them together
Is there any grace for that?
Is there any grace for the people who, with courage and limited resources, give?
Is this house still holding us?
When we pour out the maps of our minds and the burdens of our hearts will you still call us heroes?
Is there space for a garden to bloom?
I am like any other woman who chooses to rise and stand
Whether she is in a classroom, a home, an office or a business
I am not a hero; I don’t think I ever will be
If heroes are silenced when they protest and speak then I never hope to be that.
What I am is human
And, I will be that till the day I die.
And, what I put on is courage
I have seen the depths of what it means to be human in my uniform
In anger, in confusion, in sadness, in trauma
I have seen the rawness of it, its poignance
For that I will not be a hero
I will be a human, learning day by day, as I choose to wear my uniform.
