But the Struggle is Very Much Real
From a distance, Nurse Redheart watched as the mother and father of a sick filly began wrapping their hooves around her in a hug. Redheart, having given her own diagnosis to a different patient just minutes ago, didn't bother to stick around, and continued her slow walk down the halls.
She didn't look any of her coworkers in the eye, nor the patients, nor the visitors. She wasn't up for a conversation the same way she was a few years ago. Work was always monotonous like that -- you go, do your job, take occasional breaks, go home, and try to budget between paychecks. Very few ponies enjoyed what they did.
A few years ago, Redheart would have been one of those few.
Reaching the elevator, she pressed the down button and moved off to the side, keeping an eye on the descending numbers.
"Hello, Redheart!" came a chipper voice. And soon after that came a familiar pink-furred mare. "Are you on your break?"
A nod.
"Would you like to join us for lunch? Me and a couple other nurses want to try that new restaurant that opened up in town, the one that serves Itailian cuisine. We've been hearing some real stellar reviews!"
As good as the restaurant would have sounded any other time, Redheart didn't feel like socializing with her coworkers, let alone at a restaurant. "I'm fine. Thank you, Sweetheart."
With an expression of sadness, Sweetheart put her hoof on Redheart's withers. "You know, if you ever need to, you're welcome to talk to me."
"I'm fine. But thank you."
There was silence between the two mares. Redheart would have snapped at Sweetheart to get off of her case, if she had the energy. But instead, they faced each other, one mare full of life and the other as good as dead on her hooves. "All right." Sweetheart moved past Redheart. "Have a good one."
"You too."
The elevator dinged. The doors opened to reveal no one inside. Redheart made her way in, pressing the G button for ground floor.
She looked at her appearance in the metal doors. It was smeared and thus hard to see herself clearly, but the muted change in color was still noticeable. No longer was she a vibrant white and pink; instead, her colors were dull. She could see something dark under her eyes that was hard to make out. Her eyes no longer held much energy within them, and why would they? It wasn't just her outward appearance that looked tired; her inner self was tired too. And to anyone with a keen eye, the reasoning was certainly clear.
Her eyes caught a sign placed just above the buttons:
Struggling with mental health issues? Ponyville General Hospital holds therapy sessions once a week. Open to the general public. For inquiries, please check with Dr. Deep Dive at the receptionist's desk.
Redheart had seen the sign before. Many times over had she pondered whether she should go, and every time her conscience told her that she would find no sympathy nor empathy in talking about her problems. A lot of ponies took her services for granted, and it was one of the things she really hated about her job. She couldn't remember the last time she heard a "thank you" from a patient and not one of their family members or friends. Sure, she was being very selective, but it meant a lot more coming from someone who was healing from the inside out than someone who only had an outside view of the suffering.
The elevator dinged again, and the doors opened. A stallion pushing an elderly pony in a wheelchair stood in front of her, but moved to the side to let her exit. She tried to give a tiny smile, but nothing came forth, and instead she kept walking along. Her eyes drifted to various ponies passing her, but she didn't regard them with anything beyond eye contact. She only had one thing she wanted to do now, and it sure wasn't striking up conversations.
On her way to her destination, she made a pit stop in a nearby bathroom. Once she relieved herself and washed her hooves, she took a moment to look at herself in the mirror, providing a clear view of just how bad she looked. Instantly making the comparison to when Discord corrupted Twilight and the others sickened her, and she placed her hooves on the sink as her breathing became slower and heavier. Her vision became blurry, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the fur on her face become damp with tears. For minutes, she stayed there, looking at herself in the mirror and crying more and more, harder and harder, until she felt like screaming.
The colt who had hung himself because he was being bullied at school. The unicorn who had tried cutting her own horn off because the pain in it was too severe for her to withstand. The stallion who had gotten jumped and was beaten to death while trotting home from work after receiving a raise. Neither of them came close to the worst things she had ever seen. but each of them still dimmed her bright spirit more and more until she didn't enjoy her job much anymore. Being a nurse had been her dream as a filly, thinking that she would love helping her fellow ponies get better. It wasn't until she got into the job that she realized what mess she had gotten into.
And she regretted it, every single day. How could she have been so foolish?
With what little resolve she had, she steeled herself, wiping her tears away and straightening herself out so that, to other ponies, it just looked like a routine trip to the bathroom. Her hooves took her to the main lobby only a minute or two later, and it was then that she noticed what it was like outside.
Rain had been scheduled for the day. Because of course it was. If she wanted to be really petty, she could assume the pegasi scheduling it had some kind of a slight towards her specifically, but she wasn't that stupid. Or that miserable.
Closing her eyes with a sigh, she continued onward without looking where she was going, somehow managing to reach the automatic double-doors. As she took in the fresh smell of petrichor, she bowed her head.
What if it was me who hung herself? Sliced off her leg? Got mobbed by some ponies? Stayed here as a patient, and let some other nurse take care of me? Feel the same pain I've been feeling all these years?
Don't think that, Redheart. You're not that cruel.
No, but if I get worse...who knows what will happen to me? That hospital therapy sounds like a good idea. If I went there, I wouldn't have to pay a single bit. But-
Then get some outpatient therapy. You have enough bits to cover it.
Redheart sat on the ground, holding a hoof to her head. Some innate part of her, the part that still had some common sense, knew that getting outpatient therapy in lieu of hospital-issued therapy was a good idea. Not only that, but she didn't have much of a choice. She knew she was heading into a downward spiral, and if she didn't get help now, who knew what she would do? Who knew how she would hurt herself, or other ponies? Who knew when it would happen?
She caught something in her peripheral vision, and turned her head to the right to look. A wall made of glass stretched across the courtyard, with a clone of her standing on the other side of it, banging her hooves on it and screaming something unintelligible.
A rubbing of her eyes, and the clone, as well as the pane of glass, were gone.
Was that a hallucination? I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, so it could be, but that looked shockingly real. A changeling trick? No...why would they be behind glass? Why wouldn't they just talk to me directly?
The issue was moved to the back burner in favor of something more pressing. It took a bit of effort for Redheart to get up, and for a moment she wondered if the rain was beginning to affect her joints or if it was just her fatigue. She stared at the falling rain for another minute, then she turned and headed back inside, moving towards the receptionist's desk.
"Oh, hello, Nurse Redheart!" A pony she didn't recognize -- most likely a new worker -- turned around, greeting her with a smile that was way too toothy. "You need something?"
Another one of those signs was plastered behind the receptionist. Redheart slightly narrowed her eyes as she read it, but it was only for a second as her conscience whispered in her ear.
Beggars can't be choosers.
"Yes. When is the next weekly therapy session?"
"Oh, that? It's tomorrow, actually. 2 o' clock. Are you planning on attending?"
"Mhm."
"Wonderful! I'll put your name down on the list." The receptionist picked up a clipboard and a pencil and wrote down Redheart's name. "There we go."
"Thank you." Redheart tried to give a grateful smile. Still nothing came forth. "And can you give me a list of therapists in Ponyville and the surrounding areas?"
The receptionist looked confused. "Um...well, I'm afraid we don't...have a book for that or anything. We're still waiting on Twilight to return our copy."
In hindsight, Twilight hogging the book was something Redheart probably should have seen coming. Not that she was complaining much. "All right. I can see if Twilight will let me borrow her copy."
"If you're going now..." The receptionist pointed to a small cylindrical bucket by the doors. "Be sure to take an umbrella with you! It's going to become torrential in about an hour."
"Thanks."
As Redheart turned, she could feel the judgmental stare of the receptionist burning a hole through her head. It was similar to the other stares she had gotten, the kind of look that held pity but not enough for the pony doing the staring to ask if she was okay. She hated it. Not enough to sock the receptionist, though, like one elderly mare did when she was having an argument with her mother that ended in her flopping back into bed and falling still because her heart gave out. She didn't have enough energy to sock anyone at the moment, really.
Shaking her head to dispel the memory, she went over to the bucket and grabbed a complimentary umbrella, then made her way out.
It wasn't until she got halfway there, with the rain becoming heavier and heavier, that she had a eureka moment, one that made her feel stupid but one that she knew would make her feel better in the long run. Plus, she could still get therapy.
Dear Dr. Horse,
This letter is informing you that I am tendering my resignation effective immediately. As much as I have enjoyed helping the many patients that have come through Ponyville General Hospital over the years, doing so is taking a toll on both my physical and my mental health.
To put it bluntly: I can't do this anymore.
I will still be attending one of the hospital's therapy sessions, as, according to the signage placed around the building, they are open to the general public. However, in the future, I will be seeking outpatient therapy. I strongly recommend you set up therapy for medical professionals specifically, as I feel many might need it before they wind up like me. Please know that this is not because of you; you have been a wonderful coworker and continue to do excellent work in caring for the residents of Ponyville. However, in the interest of saving myself, I must depart before it becomes too late.
Please let me know when I may pick up my final payment. Thank you.
From,
Redheart
"All right. I'll send this to Ponyville General." Spike hopped off of the stool. Redheart, tea in her hooves, watched as he clutched the scroll and blew some fire on it, turning it into moving smoke that drifted towards its destination. "Is the tea good?"
"Very." Redheart took another sip. Her eyes moved to Twilight, who was searching through the shelves. "Thank you both so much for giving me shelter. That gust of wind seemed to come out of nowhere."
Just as Spike was about to respond, Twilight took initiative with an "Aha!" She telekinetically grabbed a book and floated it down. "There we go. A Guide to the Therapists, Psychologists, and Counselors of Equestria: Ponyville, Cloudsdale, and Canterlot. The most recent edition."
Redheart set down her tea and took the book when it floated over to her. "Thank you."
"That book has a list of addresses of every known therapist in the towns listed in the title. Most should still be working, but there are likely some that have closed their practices down." Twilight stood in front of her, a sad smile forming. "I'm going to miss your working at the hospital."
Another sip. Redheart nodded. "I just...can't, Twilight. I've seen too many horrors. I've dealt with so many aggressive patients. I've gotten kicked, bitten, blasted with magic. Even the foals...I used to love the foals. But I look at them, and all I see is trouble." She set down her tea again and covered her eyes with her hooves. "I'm afraid that if I go on, I'll...end up hurting myself. Or even worse, hurting someone else." Tears began to fall. "I don't want to feel this way anymore, Twilight. I don't. I...I want to live!"
The only sound that broke the deafening silence were her sobs, her attempts to get comprehensible words out, and the painful screams that, before now, had only been given to her pillow at night. Twilight's castle was a safe space, and it was that comfort that allowed her to let everything out. At one point, her brain registered the weight of two bodies, one big and one small, flanking her, but she was too anguished to care. The memories -- of her mom telling her she could never be a nurse, of her friends telling her that her dreams were unrealistic, of countless patients and countless medical mishaps and countless attacks against her life -- came bursting through the broken dam, and years of horrors were laid out on the floor for Twilight and Spike to listen to.
By the time she had considerably calmed down, it felt like hours had passed. She didn't have any way to know that for sure, though, because the lone window situated high up in the room still showed gray and its pane was still being beaten by raindrops. She wiped away her tears, grabbing a tissue from a box that had been left at her side at one point and blowing into it.
"It doesn't look like this rain's going to let up anytime soon," Twilight murmured, glancing at the window. "Why don't you stay here? I can make you something to eat."
Redheart tried to rise to her hooves. "Thanks. But I think what I need the most right now is sleep. It's...been a long time since I've gotten a proper eight hours. Could you make something and set it aside?"
"Sure. Anything in particular?"
"Mm-mm. I'm not picky."
Twilight nodded. "Spike, can you show Redheart to one of the guest rooms, please?"
"Can do."
As much as Redheart didn't want to have a full-blown conversation, it was her small talk with Spike that helped her to stay awake. When the pair crossed an intersection, she could swear she saw her clone behind that same pane of glass again, giving her a beaming smile this time, but she chalked it up to another hallucination and kept walking.
A few minutes later, Spike opened the door and let Redheart inside one of the most luxurious guest rooms she had ever seen. Which wasn't saying much, considering her house wasn't at the peak of luxury itself and she had stayed in very few hotels over the years, but even so, she was grateful for the gift.
"The bed is made. Oh, and if you need to use the bathroom, it's two doors down on the right." Spike smiled. "You need anything else, just come find me or Twilight. Starlight should be back soon too."
All Redheart could muster was a single nod. She flopped into bed with a contented sigh, a smile forming on her face that was the first genuine one she had made in a while. Her eyes involuntarily closed, and she fell into a deep sleep in the blink of an eye.
The light was dim, but it was still searing enough for Redheart to come to. Her eyes slowly opened, drifting towards the light's source. A lantern was sitting on a small wooden table, along with some flowers. Next to it was the unmistakable sight of a resting patient in bed.
"Are you kidding me?"
Before she could fully take in the situation, a gruff voice grabbed her attention, though its owner was hard to see in the near-dark.
"You won't discharge my daughter? Do you want me to get security? Because I can get security and put you out of a job in five minutes flat!"
Redheart opened her mouth to speak, but the stallion charged at her before she could utter a word, causing her to back up into a wall and rear up on her hind legs.
"She is perfectly healthy, and you know that. We're not rich, which you obviously don't know. This hospital was once a respected Ponyville institution, and now it's run by a bunch of jokes who went to a back-alley college for medical degrees!" The stallion's fiery green eyes narrowed. "So discharge my daughter, now. Before I make sure you wind up with her same fate!"
With panic making her heart beat faster, Redheart suddenly began to realize just where she was. Where she thought would be a fantastical land of wackiness, there was only the nightmarish realism of a patient's angry family member putting her life on the line because they were the one with the (legitimate) medical degree, not her. It was something she thought she had left behind, but being confronted like this now made her realize that she was a fool for doing so. The trauma and stress from her job had settled in her body too much. It wouldn't just go away with a good night's sleep.
The blunt force of the stallion's hoof impacting her cheek made her slump to the floor. She clutched it with a strangled gasp, her eyes moving towards him as he began to stomp out of the room. It wasn't the punch that left her in shock so much as it was that the setting she was in was nothing more than a dream, and the punch felt almost real. But even though it was a dream, that didn't mean it didn't scare her. She couldn't get any release in this world despite quitting her job in the waking world, and who knew how long her mind would keep tormenting her even with therapy. Thinking about the duration just made her more and more scared. The unpredictability about what would happen next made her blood run cold.
The stallion stopped suddenly and whirled his head around. An angry snort was expelled through his nostrils. His final words before exiting were like a punch to the terrified mare's soul.
"You disgust me. You're even sicker than the patients."
Author's Note
Dedicated to those working in the medical industry -- as doctors, nurses, EMTs, whathaveyou. Please look out for your mental health, lest you yourself end up as a patient.
