Inertia

When I hear the word inertia, the meaning I think of is actually paralysis:

The loss of the ability to move (and sometimes to feel anything) in part or most of the body, typically as a result of illness, poison, or injury; inability to act or function in a person, organization, or place.

The actual definition of inertia is:

A property of matter by which it continues in its existing state of rest or uniform motion in a straight line, unless that state is changed by an external force.

Inertia is the inability to change course.

Nurses experience inertia when we are unable to switch gears from the high emotional output of our jobs working with cancer patients to the more "normal" activities of our personal lives.

I recently wrote about my difficulty with changing course in "The Hostess With The Mostest" for my blog, jparadisirn.com. In the post, I describe struggling to transform from on-duty nurse into party guest at the end of a shift. The difficulty is not only in physically changing from work clothes to party wear. It's also in retooling my brain for party talk. I have to remember how to talk about favorite restaurants, and the latest film I have not yet seen, instead of cancer nursing, blogging about cancer nursing, or other things I spend large amounts of my time doing, casting a shadow over a perfectly good cocktail party.

I think about this while observing people who are not nurses enjoying themselves by taking funny pictures with their cellphones while I avoid being caught in photographs I wouldn't want my employer to find on Facebook. Do I worry too much, or is it this a characteristic that makes me a better oncology nurse?

It's healthy for oncology nurses, like myself, to avoid inertia and change course with external activities after leaving our places of work. I find it easier said than done, however, not because I can't relax, but because "normal" life sometimes fails to hold my attention.

I suspect other oncology nurses find normal life less interesting than their nursing roles, too. If we aren't over-scheduling ourselves with committee meetings, working overtime, while being the World's Best Soccer Mom, we don't feel busy enough.

This point was brought home to me by a friend who commented that I seemed tired after I said I was going for a run after getting off a hospital shift early. I told her, "No, I'm not tired. I only worked eight hours today." She replied, "Juli, for most people eight hours is a full day's work. Go home and get some rest."

I didn't. I went for the run. I do my best thinking while running, not meditating on a yoga mat. It's hard to walk when you're born to run.

Do you think preferring a busy and sometimes-hectic lifestyle is a characteristic of oncology nurses? Do you have similar experiences?