We came in with microphones, a listener poop story, and absolutely no intention of being productive. This week, we’re ditching the deep conversations and just hanging out—talking shit, chasing random tangents, laughing at things that probably aren’t that funny, and seeing where the conversation takes us.

There’s no lesson. No personal growth. No carefully researched topic. Just two friends catching up, oversharing, getting distracted, and giving you a front-row seat to the kind of conversation that happens when nobody remembers what the original point was.

Oh, and yes. There’s a poop story.

Grab a snack, lower your expectations, and come hang out with us.

No thoughts. Just side quests. Girl, bye.

Jenn is finally back from vacation, which means the Side Quest Mamas have some serious catching up to do. We’re talking road-trip chaos, family, old memories, new memories, good food, questionable decisions, and everything that happened while we were apart.

There’s no agenda. No lesson. No deep dive. Just two friends sitting down after way too much time apart and doing what we do best—starting with one story, ending up six side quests away, and probably talking a little shit somewhere in between.

Girl, bye.

Healthcare might be the only job where someone can assault you…and five minutes later, you’re expected to walk back into their room and ask them to rate their pain.

In this episode of Side Quest Mamas, we’re talking about the uncomfortable reality of violence against healthcare workers—and the culture that has somehow normalized abuse as “part of the job.”

We get into the complicated stuff, too. Patients can be scared, confused, intoxicated, mentally ill, cognitively impaired, in tremendous pain, or genuinely unable to control their behavior. They still deserve appropriate medical care.

But understanding why someone behaves violently doesn’t mean the people caring for them should have to absorb the violence.

Where is the line between compassion and self-protection? Why should an employee who has just been assaulted be expected to continue directly caring for the person who assaulted them? And why have healthcare workers become so accustomed to threats, harassment, spitting, grabbing, hitting, and abuse that sometimes we barely even acknowledge it anymore?

We’re not asking anyone to stop caring about patients.

We’re asking healthcare systems—and society—to remember that the people taking care of those patients are human, too.

You can provide compassionate care and still have boundaries.

Because getting punched should never be part of the job description.