I sit on the couch staring blankly at the wall. What’s wrong with me? James has already asked me 20 times, and the only answer I can come up with is “nothing.” It’s not “nothing”, but I just don’t know. There’s a strange feeling in my stomach. I know that I’ve felt it before, but it’s been so long that it’s become unrecognizable. Maybe I’m just tired. I went to work with little sleep last night, but thats what I always do. I lay down, but I cant sleep. I hear beeping in my head and I cant shut it off. My nose itches and out of habit, I wiggle it instead of touching it. I begin to think of all the things that I should be doing instead of laying down. I think of the people outside acting as if nothing is different. I think of the statistics I hear everytime I turn on the tv or open facebook. I start sweating. I need to get up. I need to do something. This house is a mess. I skipped my nap to clean it just yesterday, but that’s what I always do. It makes me so angry. That must be what’s wrong with me. I’m angry. I yell. I find all the things that are wrong. I bark orders. I start arguments. I go silent. I watch as everyone stops laughing and joking and begins to solemnly do what they were told, holding back their tears. I begin to feel resent creep in. Am I even angry? I dont know what else it could be. I skipped eating today to take a nap, but that’s what I always do. Maybe I am hungry. My blood sugar is probably low. I glance in the pantry. There’s nothing I want. Open the fridge. Still, nothing sounds appealing. I can’t eat. I should just probably take a shower. I shut the door and lock it. I start the water, and step in. The hot water rushes over my body, and flushes out the feeling that I have been trying so hard to suppress all day. The feeling that has manifested itself into all of the other more familiar emotions, causing a day full of mood swings and outbursts. It’s fear. I’m scared. But I’m not supposed to be scared. I have had fluids from every orfice on me from patients I have never met before, and never batted an eye. I’ve caught babies with no gloves because my bare hands were the only things between them and the floor. I’ve been puked on, pooped on, bled on, spit on, bitten, scratched, and splashed with amniotic fluid. I’ve mastered my poker face, because this is what I do. This is what I signed up for. I do not get scared. I can’t… my insides start to quiver in the shower. I swallow hard and close my eyes tight. Stop it. My face gets warm, but I can’t tell if it’s the hot water or tears. I exhale a shakey breath, louder than I expected. It’s a struggle to be silent from the 6 people that love me the most who are on the other side of the wall. I don’t want my family to be scared. At work, I wear a mask, but continue to smile with my eyes because I dont want my patients to be scared. When someone asks me how bad I expect things to get, I calmly just tell them to stay home and wash their hands, because I don’t want them to be scared. I carry all of their fear, along with my own, and it’s a heavy load. I wash my face. It stings. I take some deep breaths and pat my face dry. I’m reset. I get out, dry off, get dressed and confidently walk out to join my family. I smile. The feeling is gone for now, but I know it will be back. It comes in waves. I get dressed and make my lunch. I grab the plastic bag in the garage that contains my shoes and load everything into my car. I kiss my husband and babies good- bye, and wave to them as I back all the way out of the driveway. I put my car in drive and head back to work, because this is what I do.