Yvonne M. Estrada
People Say “I Could Never Do Your Job”
It’s tricky picking people up
and off the street.
We double glove, mask,
and face shield to restrain
a psychotic, combative spitter
that doesn’t know why
they don’t want to go
to the hospital.
We watch a triage nurse unwind
a crusty, lymph-stained gauze
from a swollen lower extremity.
Humans can be fragrant,
not sweet and heady like flowers,
but body-slam repulsive
in a gut-wrenching gag kind of way.
We never have to think about what to wear,
our boots are a tax write-off.
Sometimes we get a discount at King Taco,
or Coffee Bean. Little kids wave at us.
We remember a teacher told us
you know you are burned out
when you can’t treat a patient
like your family member.