Page 7 - Providence St. Jude Option A

That morning, she and her husband exchanged cards before she started her shift. In an attempt to be festive, she wore Christmas-tree earrings, her surgical mask featured Santa and her grey socks had snowflakes.
“I always work Christmas and I don’t mind, it’s normally not a big deal. But it’s sad here,” Waite said, tears rolling out of the corners of her eyes behind her protective lenses. “It’s harder this year.”
“I just pray every night for these people.”
Joan Pung, a registered nurse, had celebrated the holiday the night before with her husband and two sons, 7 and 2, after she finished her shift at 7:40 p.m. They had opened presents until midnight.
The next morning, she was back by 6 a.m., ahead of
another 12 hour shift. She marked the occasion with a long-sleeved green shirt that read, “All I want for Christmas is peace rainbows and unicorns.”
“I do miss them,” she said of her sons. “But then I know work is also in need.”
The last few weeks, Pung said, had been “unbearable.” For a while, it felt as if every day there was a code. Another life slipping away. She barely got a chance to take a drink of water or sit down.
But Christmas, Pung said, felt “like a good day.” There weren’t many patients they had lost or come close to losing.
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” she said.
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