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A Final Shift in Perspective: From the Regina PACU to the Northern Lights

27 mai 2026

Dre Erwin

Tonight marks the official end of a major chapter. I will walk into the Regina Post-Anesthesia Care Unit (PACU) to pull my absolute final night shift.

Before I even clock in, the gym membership is cancelled, the parking pass is cut, and my locker will be completely cleaned out. When the sun comes up tomorrow morning, this professional chapter is officially closed, period.


As a nurse with over two decades of critical care and primary care experience, transitions like this hit with a unique weight. But the administrative checklist isn't the hard part. The real weight is personal.

Heading up north to a permanent role in Sandy Bay means leaving my wife, my son, and my family behind in Regina for at least the next few months. I’m not going to sugarcoat it: right now, it feels like I’m failing them by walking out that door. It is hands-down the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But the reality is, I am leaving them for them—to endure the distance now so we can secure a better life in the long run.


To visually process that looming absence, I did something raw with a recent family photo from one of our chases.


A Final Horizon Together (Pre-Transition)
A Final Horizon Together (Pre-Transition)

The Echo of Departure (Post-Transition)
The Echo of Departure (Post-Transition)

Seeing that empty space on the bridge is a brutal preview of the next few months. Walking away from the daily routine with the people who mean the most to you is a heavy tax to pay. Seeing the reality of where I’ll be laying my head up north makes that distance very real, very fast.


This is home base for the next little while. It's stark, it's distant, and it's a long way from the family living room.
This is home base for the next little while. It's stark, it's distant, and it's a long way from the family living room.

To visually capture exactly how my headspace feels right now on the edge of this massive shift, I look at this recent "tiny planet" stereographic projection I edited from a local Regina chase.
To visually capture exactly how my headspace feels right now on the edge of this massive shift, I look at this recent "tiny planet" stereographic projection I edited from a local Regina chase.

Standing on the edge of a flat prairie horizon—literally twisted into its own self-contained world beneath a roaring canopy of neon green and orange aurora borealis—perfectly mirrors this moment. It’s a total shift in perspective. My entire world is spinning into a new alignment.


The Mission Ahead The sacrifice is heavy, but the purpose is clear. Back home, my living room is currently a beautiful disaster of logistics—piled high with donated shoes, shirts, and sports gear prepped and ready to head up north to support the youth mentorship and community photography initiatives. We are going to do some incredible work for the kids up there, and that mission keeps my feet moving forward.


But before the real packing and the heavy goodbyes happen, I’m taking a quick breather with a road trip to Calgary this weekend to clear my head, spend time with family, and reset.


Regina PACU, it has been an absolute slice. Let's handle these administrative final steps, empty the locker, and do this one last time.

Aurora sask

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