Today was one of those days where you go to work straight after a weekend on call and spend the entire day exhausted. All the patients were new to me, and Iād been dealing with some palliative patients, whilst still being a little emotionally raw after my own bereavement. Itās bittersweet to ensure one personās passing is comfortable, and that their loved ones were there, when you couldnāt be there for someone you loved.
So I changed into PJs right after getting home. Yes, even I have those days.
Ordinarily I wouldnāt care if my flatmates see me in PJs; that just comes with the territory of living with people. And I can deal with happening upon their friends from outside whilst dressed super casually. After all, when I have vistors around, they probably donāt want to have to think about what they are wearing or doing, either. Canāt stop living your life, after all.Ā
But, because she works as a nurse in the same hospital as me, her friends are all also HCAs and nurses in the same hospital as us (one of them is even on my ward). Iām OK with strangers seeing me look like a troll, but Iām absolutely not OK with people I might have to work with seeing me looking like a troll. If Iām asking someone to give a medication, or Iām coming around to review their patient, I want them to see me as a competent adult rather than reminiscing about how I looked like the girl out of The Ring. I just was not up to being ambushed by unexpected chit chatting in my PJs with people from work. No thank you, Mr Monday, that is not what I signed up for today.
Now, obviously, strangers really donāt care much about people they donāt really know, so I imagine nobody I work with actually thinks about what level of trampiness I may embody at home. But society being how it is, people still subconscously judge by appearances, particularly if you are a woman. I donāt care if strangers think Iām a tramp, but I do care if anyone takes me less seriously at work. So that aināt gonna happen.
At the same time, I really didnāt want to have to change into decent clothes just to go to the bathroom,Ā and then have to change again,Ā because I spend way too much time in smart clothes at work looking like a sensible adult and I was so, so done with adulting today. And Iād still have to do the chit-chatting, but at least itād be less mortifying.
Fortunately, for anyone wondering whether I had to woman up, or whether I let it go (TM), our visitors left before I had to choose between my reputation and my principles, and I was able to continue on my way unimpeded. Still, I have to chuckle in retrospect. Even if at the time it was really ticking me off, because Iād already had it with today. Perhaps tomorrow will be better...