“God’s got this.”
“He holds you in the palm of His hand.”
“None of this is a surprise to God.”
“Heaven, help us.”
These are the sentiments spoken in response to what critical care nurses like myself are seeing, and while these comments are absolutely true in my book, they don’t quite give me the reassurance I’m hoping for. It’s not that the thoughts and prayers aren’t appreciated; because, they are! My spirit thrives on them, and His strength makes all things possible. But after hearing the well-meant words of others, especially after a brutal day, it occurred to me what the human side of me really wants.
I want people to understand.
I can’t really blame them, though. Other than my spouse, I’m usually pretty nondescript when it comes to my day. When asked how it’s going during a pandemic, we’ll use bland words like “hard” or “bad.” Perhaps even “exhausting.” Yet those simple syllables say little to what’s really going on. I’m not sure if it’s too painful to rehash or just easier to say less. I think, for many nurses, after having close acquaintances, or even family members, act over the past year and a half like Covid is not a big deal, it makes you place a wall around yourself. To see folks neglect simple things like masks, or to chastise vaccines and science, it makes you crawl inside a hole. Then, later, when you need someone to understand how you’re feeling, they don’t.
They don’t understand.
Other than my spouse, and a few family and friends I’m comfortable enough to share the intimate aspects of my day, no one understands the pain of what I see. Deep down, I don’t want them to. I don’t want that for anyone. But sometimes, I just wish I could open a curtain into my ICU for the world to see. I think we wouldn’t have another record-breaking surge going on if I could. Maybe I wouldn’t feel like crying, like I did yesterday, all alone in my angst. Even when the tears don’t come, because I’m too afraid to let them loose, worried that I won’t be able to rein them back in.
As it stands, in lieu of a magic window, you’re left with the fact that no one understands, unless they’ve been behind the curtain with you.
Words like “hard“ don’t accurately depict what it’s like to watch people slowly die of a virus that takes away their ability to breathe. “Bad” isn’t adequate to describe the fear in their eyes of dying with a feeling of cruel suffocation.
When you hear the “numbers are going up,” you don’t see the numbers I see going down. The oxygen saturation numbers that keep alarming too low to oxygenate the blood and sustain life. They don’t tell you on the news (no matter the network) what it feels like to watch a person turn gray, and blue, and purple. They don’t describe the feeling of your hands when ribs crack beneath them during CPR, no more than they tell about the hopeless feeling in your heart when a family member asks you over the phone if the patient is getting better.
I’ve never fought such a losing battle, and it’s hard to put that into words. When you’re in the business of healing, Critical Care Covid doesn’t play by the rules, and it just ends up feeling like a bad luck streak that won’t break. Does anyone understand how hard that is on us?!
I can’t speak for everyone, but I know that personally my heart is broken. It’s excruciating watching people suffer. It’s beyond demoralizing when the majority don’t get better. I’m angry at people who ignore the suffering of others. I’m pissed that this is still happening! I’m frustrated at staffing problems, and I totally understand why nurses are fleeing the bedside in droves.
The thing is, I can write out all of the above, and most people still won’t understand. Not totally. Until you live it, until you can’t unsee the things you wish you had not seen, and until you spend your off days in a depressed daze, despite your best efforts, you’ll never understand. For your sake, I’m glad you don’t.
Brie you are so eloquent. Thank you.
This should be posted where the whole world can read it! Thank you for sharing in the post. May the Lord continue to strengthen you as you deal with the brokeness of this world on so many levels. Your photo of yourself in this post, breaks my heart, you look exhausted. My daughter is also an ICU nurse and knows the same of what you have shared. Both you and my daughter have hearts that share in the ache that God has for His creation. You are blessed to have a husband who can be your support and listening board. Please take care of yourself you precious soul.
Thank you so much! Praying for your daughter also!
I have been reading many of your posts throughout the pandemic and am so moved by your stories. Thank you for being brutally honest and willing to share your experiences. Though my prayers are with you, I know I will never fully understand your pain, but I hope you fully understand my gratitude for your excruciating, heartbreaking work.
Thank you so much. I truly appreciate your thoughts and prayers.
Thank you Brie for your eloquent transparency. I was a nurse and still can’t fully understand the emotional, spiritual and physical trauma you and other nurses are experiencing. I know you are exhausted. I cried when I saw your face. It paints a picture words cannot describe. My heart bleeds for you. No one should have to endure what your patients are going through and you should not have to endure what you’re going through.
Can’t you get transferred to a small town, like where I live, that’s short handed but would not be nearly as demanding on you, even just for a while to get some rest and still work? You have got to find a way to take care of yourself. You know exhaustion is deadly. I worry about you so much.
Know that you are still on my daily prayer list. May God truly bless you in all you do, for all you do. Stay safe my friend. I love you in Christ love.
Lisa
Thank you so much.
Brie, you said something interesting near the end of your post. You said “It’s beyond demoralizing when the majority don’t get better.” While I understand that you are talking about your patients, the ones you see in the ICU, it is very easy to extrapolate that feeling onto the pandemic as a whole. Which would be inaccurate. The truth is the vast majority of people who contract Covid DO get better and when we work critical care we can get what I think of as ICU blinders. I have been an RN for 34 years, 28 of them in critical care and more recently PACU (also a critical care area, but much more low-key than the units). When I was in my 20’s I was working two ICU jobs, weekdays PRN in CVICU and weekends 16 hour shifts on Saturdays and Sundays in NeoICU. I was pregnant with my first child at the time and I was convinced that all babies were born at around 26 weeks. It was all I ever saw!! When all you see are the sickest Covid patients day after day it is hard to wrap your head around the idea that more than 98% of people who get the disease have a full recovery. In another post you talked about nurses essentially having PTSD because of Covid and I think you made a valid point but I would encourage you to remind yourself that for every critically ill patient you take care of there are close to a hundred who have made it through and developed the natural immunities that will ultimately create herd immunity.
Brie thank you so much for sharing your experiences. we appreciate nurses for the great work they do to save lives. It is a strong battle and we pray for you and ask Jesus to be on the frontline.