What makes a professional?

I read a post about what makes a writer a professional writer. Although some attribute lofty requirements, the gist of most, was getting paid. I thought about this a bit. I am paid for my novels and short stories, by the reader, via amazon. Not a lot, though the royalty percentages are good, you still have to sell. Also, there is some expense, so to be a 'professional', must you see a profit? And, is any profit, no matter how marginal, the litmus test of being a professional?

I'm an RN. A member of a profession. There are serious requirements. You must know medications, be aware of the side affects and correct dosing(just because a doctor prescribed it does not relieve you of the responsibility, should it be incorrect). Additionally, you must continually assess your patients, note changes and keep the doctors informed. There is a

long list of things you must know and do, like most professions.

Sometimes, you have to clean butts. I'm paid for this so I suppose you could call me a 'professional butt cleaner'.

I thought I was until I helped an aide with this chore. This person has no degree, just a certificate, but is paid, though if you've ever observed what they do, it's not nearly enough.

I watched this person perform the task quickly, thoroughly and in my eyes, like a master artist. This butt was cleaned gently, powdered, bedding changed and all the while, kept the patient comfortable, warm and at ease.

I felt ashamed and from that point on, made it my goal to be the best 'butt cleaner' I could be. I remain clumsy in this endeavor and will probably never achieve the level of the aide. Still, I aspire.

So, what makes a writer, a 'professional writer'? I really haven't a clue, but I think there must be a level of care and aspiration. As in any profession, a level of knowledge and skill must be applied. And, getting paid isn't bad either.

I may never reach the level of  'butt cleaning' as the professional I witnessed. I may never attain the level of writing as the successful authors I've read. I have errors and bad habits, so ingrained, they most certainly will seep into my work. Yet, I aspire to be better, and I care, for the story, the characters, and the readers.

I guess this makes me just 'a writer'.

"WHAT ARE Y'ALL DOIN' DOWN THERE?"

Good Morning, Friday the 13th. I am surprised that the Jason people did not have another sequel primed and ready for this one, being it is also a full moon and not suppose to happen again for some time. I guess it was decided they'd bled it enough. Damn! I crack myself out. (family joke) Okay...nursing. I do that now and it has its moments. We seem to be superstitious. Just mentioning that it seems to be a quiet night can bring on all kinds of derision. There was this one time. Don't remember if it was Friday the 13th, but it should have been.

A rapid response had been called. (this is different than 'rabid response' which is when staff just go crazy for no particular reason) An elderly man had been found unresponsive. He was not reacting to any stimulus. Pain (sternal rub), light, voice...nothing. Crash cart was brought in, a dozen staff members including a doctor. I was attempting to obtain a manual blood pressure, without any luck. Not a favorable sign, as I am good at it.

No pulses could be felt, and chest compressions were under way, the ambu bag was being squeezed. Some one was trying to obtain a doppler pulse. (a sound amplification device which involves a probe and smear of lubricant and always cold. The nurse was trying to for a femoral pulse. Right in the crotch.

The man came alive, sit up like a jack-in-the-box and yelled. "What the hell y'all doin' down there!

I looked around at my colleagues, as there was a moment of stunned silence, then back to the patient. He was staring at us all like we were crazy. A short round of unison laughter ensued, a collective sigh of relief if you will.

For my money, the guy was dead, and maybe he was, or perhaps it was just another freaky Friday!