Do you know what happens when there’s not enough nurses to care for all the sick people on any given day? No, they don’t stop being sick. And so far the hospitals haven’t figured out how to grow us in a Petri dish. We don’t get to call a time out or say, “hey, that’s not fair.” We can grumble, mumble, and even fumble, but in the end you’re still left with folks who need somebody to take care of them, and there you are.
So… Yeah.
Sometimes when there’s more critically ill people than you can shake a stick at you get the added bonus of being the one in charge. It’s like being given a stick of gum as a teacher, then being instructed to divide it amongst your 28 pupils. Do what?!
You certainly feel like you’ve been chewed up and spit out when it’s all said and done.
And you end up with tough decisions. You ask yourself questions like, “who is least likely to die today?”
Then you group the “probably won’t die today’s” with the “circling the drains,” and you joke loudly with your coworkers in the assignment-making huddle, trying to make light of a situation that in all honesty scares you to death. As if laughing about the unrealistic expectations will make them vanish, or at least not make you feel so out of control of a situation that desperately begs for your handle on it.
You end up starting your day with a patient who can discharge home, but you end it with a patient who went to their forever home in the sky.
You wonder how many times you can override Levophed in any given day, and you whisper where no one hears, God, please don’t let them code on me. Not today.
You make silly, snap decisions you shouldn’t have to make in the face of unexpected chaos, and you just hope it turns out right.
You berate your frazzled mind while hanging dangerous medications, focus, focus. You check, and double check, and triple check your lines. What am I forgetting?!
You ignore the “stable” patient in favor of the “crashing” one until you can regroup, reassign, and revamp your ever-changing day.
You carry the weight of your own assignment, but also the weight of your coworkers’, and thank God they carry the weight of yours too. You’d never make it alone.
At some point when another patient is coming, when you’re taking report on another incoming train ready to derail, you realize you stand very close to the edge. You’re ready to cuss, cry, throw papers (even though you’re supposedly paperless), and walk out! But then who would take care of the sick people?
Your reach your breaking point, but somehow you don’t break. You just keep going instead.
You end up with this horrible headache ten hours into your day and it dawns on you, “hey, I haven’t eaten yet today.”
You mentally go over what you must have certainly missed as you scarf down cold, rubbery chicken tenders quickly. I know I’ve forgotten something! And it will be that thought that follows you home needling at your brain.
I don’t know about other places, but most days in critical care feel like you’re in charge of a steadily sinking ship. You’re the captain of the Titanic staying aboard even as she begins to capsize. You can’t possibly abandon ship, even if the lifeboats call your name.
It’s like being on a roller coaster that never stops to let you off, and the thing is, you didn’t even ask to ride.
Not all days make you want to throw in the towel, thank God, but when you reach the end of one that does it’s almost in a staggering status of disbelief that you made it to the other side. You joke with the oncoming shift like you didn’t almost collapse into a mound of trembling tears less than four hours before, but if anyone understands the hard truth it’s your peers.
Maybe they’re the only ones.
Karl says
Outstanding as usual Brie, I love your outlook and perspective on life. You truly have been given many talents. First to be a mother, wife, and a special care giver of your fellow human beings. It is very evident that you have been bestowed with The great love of Jesus Christ. Keep on Keeping On, you enriched the lives of all of us that read your heart felt words.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you!
Denise says
I ditto that comment whole heartedly. Well said!!
Stacie says
I think we all feel like that–at least on the inpatient side. I float to almost all the specialties and the less critical the patients the more “tolerant” admins get about the size of the workload. It’s a different kind of sinking ship, yet we still feel it. I’ve been on the LDRP floors when their ship starts sinking too. Praying your next shift is a smooth one.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you.
Michaela Mcwilliams says
Oh oh oh, how well I remember those days!!!! Well said?
Chrissy says
While my field is quite different (geriatrics vs critical care), population usually older, less critical, we have a lot of the same issues. This past week has been especially trying. It is no fun seeing that more than one someone needs “cleaned up” while passing meds and you know your aides are working as hard as they can, and one picky person wants a ham salad sandwich twenty minutes before supper and does not want to wait. And you have a new ambulatory person, very insecure in the new setting, following you everywhere because only a handful of people understand how to help this person feel more secure, others setting her off as she senses their apprehension towards her. And in your heart you want to do everything you can to provide the very best care. And be careful in the documentation. The very hardest part is wondering what is God is teaching us? And not being mad at Him for the situation we’re in. I know it’s a fallen world. I know. The thread of hope for me is that I shared this feeling of not being able to do enough with a dear friend who’s is on both sides (family member and former employee) and she said, “We need you.” Was sharing with my best friend today as well about the issues and hopelessness feeling and she said, “They need you.” I’m not at all trying to one-up you, or steal your thunder, or take anything away from how you feel. I want you to know I truly appreciate the work you do and that you are honest about the truth related to it. We need you.
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thank you so much. God bless you!
Denise says
Awesome comment on the geriatric side of nursing… Indeed, a much needed area for outstanding, compassionate care givers. Thank you for loving the elderly with your whole heart.?
Kim Hall says
Brings back some memories of my days in the SICU. I now work outpatient mental health clinic and am very grateful, but have NOT forgotten. We need to join our forces and utilize our expertise, working to get mandated ratios passed in more than just one state of our beautiful country! There is no other profession that would tolerate the conditions that nurses endure daily. We are busy, but we cannot be too busy to be a catalyst for change, for the benefit of patients and nurses! I found you through SMYS!
brieann.rn@gmail.com says
Thanks for sharing!