Sometimes I come across a post on Facebook where someone makes a long, ranting complaint about the hospital I work for, and I’ll be completely honest with you; I get offended. I do. I can’t help it. I know I shouldn’t. After all it’s not about me. I have zero control over your ER wait time, if a certain doctor is rude, or if a specific diagnosis was missed. In fact, I have never actually seen a complaint that could even remotely have to do with me specifically yet I still feel my quills bristle when someone says something derogatory against my employer. Why is that?
Well see, here’s the thing about being a nurse. I work on a team with all these great healthcare professionals, and something about being duly responsible for another human being’s life tends to form a bond among folks. I have stood in the room waiting my turn to take over chest compressions on someone’s husband, while I heard them cry in the hall, and met eyes with the grim cardiologist whose expression speaks the futility of our efforts. I’ve heard him say “let’s keep trying” even when the prognosis is grave, and we have intrinsically connected on the field of combat. Sure it’s not a war against foreign enemies we fight, but rather it’s a battle to keep families intact, mommas with their babies, and daddies around for years to come. And something about that kind of battlefield will forge a brotherhood that no man can put asunder.
I know what it’s like to fly into work on the wing of a prayer, knowing that you have no clue what calamity awaits you when you arrive to your job, but praying without ceasing that you will do no harm. It could easily become overwhelming when you think of the very real responsibility your role in the healthcare team implies. The stress of realizing one tiny mistake could end in tragedy is enough to send any sane person over the edge, yet nurses, doctors, RTs, EMTs, paramedics, pharmacists, CNAs, techs, and a hundred other healthcare angels I’m forgetting face the challenge every single day. They get up early, most likely after working a thirteen hour or longer shift the day before, and they go to battle. It’s hard enough performing under that stress. Factor in perfectly delivered customer service and the weight on your shoulders can get pretty heavy.
I’ve rushed around the bedside of a fresh, post-op emergency surgery patient, pounding in blood products as fast as pressure bags and gravity will allow, and I’ve watched the monitor with a whisper of “please God.” All the while my team is there with me praying, working, fighting, and doing everything in our power to get a good outcome. Something about serving with others in that environment connects you on a level few people outside of healthcare can understand. If blood is thicker than water, then stemming blood loss together is thicker than it all.
I’ve also been in the hallway after all efforts have ended in vain. I’ve seen stoic doctors cry, and watched fellow nurses crumble into grieving family with empathetic sobs. I’ve stood motionless, in silent solidarity while a physician delivers bad news. There’s just something about holding someone as they realize their life will never be the same and sharing that responsibility with your coworker that makes you more than simple teammates. It’s a bond forged in the shared delivery of healthcare in all its many forms, even holding someone’s hand while they cry.
So because of this, because of this comaraderie built at the bedside of comatose twenty year olds and grandfathers taking their last breath I take it all very personal. When you bash a coworker it’s like you’re bashing me. When you ridicule my employer it’s like you’re taking a stab at my own chest. A hospital is more than just a building, and it’s more than its CEO, board members, or administration. It’s more than a single department that might have peeved you off, and it’s certainly worth more than a million patient satisfaction survey results.
A hospital is a family. It’s a place where brothers and sisters armed with stethoscopes and scissors come together to make a difference in the life of the community they serve. And the thing is they take it pretty seriously. So if you come against one of us, it’s like you come against us all. When you speak we listen. We all listen.
When you make the decision to follow your heart towards a career that serves mankind in their most intimate and vulnerable of times you do open yourself up to the critique of those you serve. They expect perfect service with a smile, immediate satisfaction, and zero error. Few other jobs have such high expectations. Today a fast food restaurant got my order wrong and I was frustrated. Had I done the equivalent in my job, like given the wrong medicine, someone might be frustrated to death. Literally. The role we serve is a serious one so it’s no wonder the bar is set so high. We are not allowed grace and forgiveness, just resent and discontent.
It’s not easy living up to the expectations, yet we go into work every day and we try. So when I see a fellow freedom (of sickness) fighter fall under the bus of public opinion I grimace with the heartfelt feeling of their pain. When I see a complaint lodged against the facilty where I choose to practice this monumental task of lofty expectation I do get offended. How could I not?
In the end I will stand with my team. I may chastise them in private. I may get frustrated with their actions on my own. But when it comes down to it we work together for the greater good of the communities we serve. So while everyone has their own opinion and they’re free to speak it on Facebook, I will speak mine here as well. I stand up for those who stand up for the sick and needy. And yeah, if you bash them on social media I take it to heart. I can’t help it, and now you know why.