I’ve been a nurse for six years now. Long shifts, aching feet, barely enough time to eat—but I love it. It’s the one place where I feel like I truly matter. Nobody cares what I look like, just that I do my job well.
But today? Today threw me back to a time I’d rather forget.
He was sitting on the bed, wincing as he held his wrist, but when he saw me, his eyes widened. For a second, I thought he didn’t recognize me, but then I saw it—the awkward glance at my nose. I knew instantly.
Middle school, high school… he made my life hell. “Big Becca,” “Toucan Sam,” all the cruel names. I spent years wishing I could disappear. And now, here I was, standing in scrubs, holding his chart, and he was the one needing me.
“Becca?” he said, hesitantly. “It’s been a while.”
I kept my face neutral. “What happened to your wrist?”
As I wrapped his wrist, he awkwardly laughed. “Guess karma’s funny, huh?”
I met his eyes. For once, he wasn’t the bully—just another patient.
