Brie Gowen

Savor the Essence of Life

COVID-19: An Inside Look

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Perhaps it’s because I’m a registered nurse working the bedside of this virus, but I feel like I’ve seen plenty of information about what it’s like for healthcare workers fighting this COVID-19 fight. I’ve seen stories about violence towards people in scrubs out there, but personally I’ve received nothing but support and encouragement. Most of my friends know about our struggles with personal protective equipment (PPE), be it the fears it will run out or the frustration with the ever-changing guidelines of safety by the CDC. People have seen the struggles nurses and others have wearing the same masks for twelves hours or more straight, and aside from them seeing the bruises and pressure sores on my face, I’ve told my family how the continuous wear causes me to feel fuzzy-headed and drowsy (not a good feeling for a critical care nurse).

We (as a healthcare team) mostly keep quiet about the inconveniences of no bathroom or water breaks. I mean, it’s just how it is. Another straw to add to the back of an already sagging camel. Yet, despite any struggles we face physically, or even the fears we attempt to overcome mentally, it’s been so helpful to have the praise and support of family and friends. I know they see me, and they try to sympathize with the war we’re waging against this tricky contagion. I guess, what I’m trying to say is, I feel like a lot of thoughts and prayers have been directed my way, but recently my heart has been breaking for the patients I serve.

If you could see inside my little world, behind smudged googles and hot breath, you would see how COVID is attacking more than our ability to go to the mall, or even beyond our inability to pay bills. You see, this pandemic is more than being forced to stay home, schooling your children, or even (sadly) being unable to gather with your church or extended family. I saw it went beyond missing my baby brother’s wedding, or not being able to find our favored toilet paper. Because beyond sinking stocks and failing businesses were people dying. Scared, alone, and confused.

If you could stand here beside me you would see the real effects of COVID-19. You’d see the frightened eyes of a patient when a crowd of strangers rush into the room, moving quickly, with a sense of urgency. You’d glimpse the fear the patient exuded over all the people surrounding them in hoods, masks, and billowing gowns. The worst part about a mask? They can’t see you smile.

If you stood in my shoes you would hold a patient’s hand with your own gloved one, attempting to offer comfort, wiping away a stray tear, patting their arm compassionately.

“You’re doing so good. It’s ok. Don’t be afraid.”

While foreign tubes are being inserted, with language barriers in place, you’d try to explain why rolling onto your belly in the hospital bed is needed to perhaps help getting a breath be less excruciating.

If you sat at my desk you’d try and calm a family member, over the phone only, since visitors aren’t allowed.

If you stood outside the glass fishbowl, like me, watching lifesaving procedures being performed in unprecedented ways, to keep staff contamination at bay, you’d feel your heart break while staff worked feverishly to sedate the anxious patient, just prior to passing down a endotracheal breathing tube. If you could read the patients frantic thoughts at that moment just prior to sweet sleep, you would be certain he wondered worriedly, “what if I never wake up?”

Because people aren’t waking up.

Y’all, I can’t understand all this. It’s not like anything we’ve ever known, and I’m sure you’re getting that Sci-Fi movie vibe too. As if we’re walking through a dream we can’t wake from, we all feel that surreal mood. It’s hard for everyone, and we all feel the sting, but we have to remember to feel more than just how this is affecting us personally. We gotta try to imagine how it’s impacting the world at large, how we’re all hurting in one way or another. Because, you see, it’s our ability to empathize with another than binds us, and if we can stand together (even as we’re physically apart), we will stand stronger when the dust settles. Eventually it will.

Who Do You Say I Am? A Guide to Victory in Pandemic.

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Easter is quickly approaching, and it seems we’ll still be under social distancing at that time. I know for many Christians they may have never spent an Easter Sunday not in church, and I was reminded this morning of an Easter Sunday I spent at the hospital bedside years ago. I recall being disappointed that I wasn’t in the house of God that holiday, and it was then that the Lord spoke something very strongly to my heart.

He said, my resurrection lives in you.

With all the happenings globally as of late, I am reminded of His Spirit at work in us. And with all the common reactions to this pandemic, I am reminded of some lyrics I heard in a song recently.

It said, God isn’t hard to find.

I suppose that seems way off base to many people, especially lately. After all, so many times God seems silent. When tragedy strikes, like now, He can especially seem distant. But when I heard those lyrics the other morning I was hit by the truth of it. You see, God isn’t hard to find. It’s just hard for us to do the locating. We’re too distracted by the world to realize that He is here with us all along.

It’s not hard to see the fear out there. It’s not hard to feel it yourself. I realized after a four day stretch at the hospital bedside that I was overwhelmed with the very realness of all this. I was inundated with COVID-19 statistics, the ever-changing instructions for how to deal with it all. Uncertain and evolving information from the CDC and those in power above me made my head spin. I discovered pretty quickly that I had to be intentional in my time with Jesus, because everything else vying for my focus was pretty intense. Not only were the worries of having enough food to eat there, or how the economy would suffer, but also the real threat of taking home a dangerous illness to my family.

This morning, and last night, I was drawn to the book of Matthew. I read it before bed, but also again this morning,

Matthew 16:15-16 (NIV)

15 “But what about you?” he asked. “Who do you say I am?”

16 Simon Peter answered, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God.”

As Easter approaches I’m reminded of the days leading up to the Crucifixion. Jesus enters Jerusalem with much fanfare and praise, the crowds singing and proclaiming Him a king. Yet five days later the same words of “King of the Jews,” were used to find Him guilty and sentenced to death. Public opinion was a shifty one, indeed, and it’s in Matthew 16 we see Jesus gently leading Peter to the realization that it’s not what the crowd says that matters.

Who do you say I am?

This is becoming a question that Jesus asks us all. Who is the Lord to us during such a time as this? Is He an angry God, distant, pouring a plague on His people, only to forget them as they suffer? Or is He the Messiah, the Savior of the world?

In the midst of COVID-19 and the fallout of this pandemic, it’s hard not to be afraid. We see the news, the growing numbers of infected, and of course, the personal stories and accounts coming from those working in the thick of this illness. Some of us see dwindling bank balances and empty cupboards. Others see plummeting stocks, or death up close and personal. I’m reminded again of our dear disciple Peter. He knew, before it all went down, that Jesus was the Son of God. He spoke it out loud in faith, yet we all remember what happened before the cock crowed three times. He denied Jesus. It’s a disappointing turn of events in scripture, yet Jesus still fulfilled what He spoke in Matthew 16. He still built the church on the rock that was Peter. That’s good news for us!

When Jesus spoke about building the church, with a mere man who He knew would deny Him down the road, He spoke this.

The gates of Hell will not overcome it!

Today, we face the straining of Hell coming against us. A spirit of death and sickness come in a virus form, and a spirit of fear tries to make us deny (or forget) the power of our God, but Jesus promises that evil does not win. It can not overcome us!

Another verse comes to me as I write this post.

Psalm 121:1-2 (NIV)

I lift up my eyes to the hills– where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.

As believers, we can find God. It’s not hard, after all. He is here in us. He has not forgotten us, and actually has promised our victory. He doesn’t want us in fear, denying the power He gives us to overcome problems, but He does still provide us victory, knowing we will have our doubts. Today, I would remind you to ask of yourself the same question that Jesus asked Peter.

Who do you say I am?

Is He the rising infection rates or empty store shelves? Is He the dwindling economy or uncertain future? Is He the depressing news reports or scary Facebook posts? No! None of this is a surprise or uncertain to our God. He is the Messiah, the Savior of the world, the Great I Am, and He will! Be encouraged.

Three Things God Says About COVID-19

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Nothing brings character out quite like crisis. You will see some of the most courageous people charge into a burning building, but sadly, you will also see the ones who knock down the weak, trampling them to escape calamity. You will see people who instill fear, take advantage of a bad situation, yet also the helpers, the ones who pick up the fallen, serve the weak, despite their own trepidation, and give more than they take. I would like to think that all followers of Jesus fall into only one of the above mentioned categories, but sadly we all can fall to fear, panic, and survival of the fittest. Yet, in a time of chaos and uncertainty, I believe God calls His children to a deeper level of trust in Him. So, consider this a friendly reminder, to all of us who profess the faith, to follow the commands God has put forth for us in His word.

Without further ado, here are three things God is telling us amidst COVID-19.

1. Stay home! I want to put this as best as I can. I completely understand the fear of losing financial resources. I totally do. Most of us don’t have a huge savings built up, but I’m trying to encourage a kingdom mindset amongst all of this. I want my brothers and sisters out there to try and see this situation as an opportunity to grow deeper in dependence and relationship with Jesus, to not fear the waves that come, but trust the one who controls the storms. It’s not the boat that will save you; it’s the One who controls the ocean. He will provide.

Also, let’s think about what’s important. Is it staying current on bills or human life? Trust me as a healthcare provider on the frontline of this. It’s serious. People are dying. Maybe not you, the healthy twenty-something, but you can be without symptoms at the beginning of the virus and pass it along to people you do care about. Your grandparents, your friend’s immune compromised child. Life will always trump bank balance.

Then there’s this little nugget.

Romans 13:1-2 (NIV)

Submission to Governing Authorities

13 Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God. 2 Consequently, whoever rebels against the authority is rebelling against what God has instituted, and those who do so will bring judgment on themselves.

Please trust the experts in disease transmission on this. Let’s not listen to that mom in your private Facebook group.

I won’t say I believe every word from a politician’s mouth or especially the news, but I do obey the authorities God has placed over me. Our government has given very clear and strong recommendations, and a large number of people are still ignoring the highly educated, well established plans to slow the spread of this virus. You are hurting others, you are hurting yourself, and you are disobeying more than the president you don’t like. You’re disobeying scripture. Let’s humble ourselves under the authority God has placed over us, trust that His plans will prevail, and stay home! I’m a nurse and a Christian. I trust medical science, but above all my Savior. God has given us healthcare and healthcare providers with the knowledge to save us. Let’s trust that God-given wisdom that says staying home will keep this from getting bigger than our hospitals and medical supplies can handle. Please.

2. Stop hoarding food! I have had friends inquire of my family, if we have enough. Since we started living in an RV we have limited space for storage period. Our fridge is small, our pantry also. We can store about enough for a week for our family of five, and that means frequent grocery trips. This past week I went shopping after a twelve hour shift at the hospital bedside, and as most of you know, the shelves were bare. Yet as I made my way through the aisles I always found one to two of every item I needed, even if it wasn’t my typical brand. By the way, I only took one, leaving the other for the next person.

Matthew 6:25-27 (NIV)

Do Not Worry

25 “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? 26 Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? 27 Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?

I’m reminded of the Israelites in the desert. God provided enough manna for each day. Some tried to take more and keep it for the next day, but He caused it to spoil. He wanted them to understand that He was their provider, and they could trust Him to give exactly what they needed. I’ll bet there’s a lot of people today who may end up throwing out some food they bought in over abundance, never realizing that God wanted to show them what He could give them.

Jesus came showing us how to be servants, showing us that the first would be last, and the last first. He saw people in need and He fed them. Never once did He hold onto what God had given Him and not share with the rest. He didn’t take all the fish and bread from the little boy and split it with His disciples. He thanked God for the little He had, then God multiplied that gratitude to feed five thousand. Imagine the blessings we are missing out on because instead of thanking God for what we’ve been given that we need, we’re taking more than enough right out of the hands of the hungry. It’s going to rot.

2 Timothy 1:7 ESV

For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.

Don’t let fear drive your actions. I love my family, and I feel the need to take care of them. I understand that you want to get your family what they need, but stop and consider the fact that fear is driving you to load up a shopping cart with sixteen cases of water and twelves packs of toilet paper.

Which leads us to the third yet biggest commandment He’s speaking during this time.

3. Do not fear!

I say it again. Do. Not. Fear. There’s a reason this is the most repeated phrase in scripture. You see, fear is from the devil, and fear is a liar. Is all this kinda scary? You betcha butt! I am walking into a lockdown, negative air pressure, isolation, COVID-19 unit at work. Tons of healthcare providers around the country are doing this. If we let fear rule our actions, we would shut them all in a room and let nature take its course, but no, we go in and provide the very best, life-saving care we can. Are we afraid of catching the virus, or perhaps spreading it to our family? Of course! But we don’t let fear dominate and rule our actions. The reason the Bible says so frequently not to fear is because God knows we will. Sin has created some really crazy, frightening things out there, but faith in Jesus gives us a mode to combat fear and not let it rule our hearts and lives. He has overcome all evil, and COVID is no different. Even death has lost its sting, y’all. I serve a creator who gives eternal life, and the gift He offers is bigger than the most fatal of diseases.

Do you think this surprises God? Do you think He is as shocked as we all are by the death toll in Italy? No!

Psalm 139:16 ESV

Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.

God knows beginning to end. He knew this was coming, and He knows how it will end. He knows the solution. He knows the good that will come from this. What the enemy means for evil, God will turn to our good. We have a tendency to forget that.

God is whispering amongst the chaos,

come to me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest. I will give you peace. I do not give as the world gives. Take comfort, for I have overcome the world. There it is. Do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wasteland and streams in the desert. Hope like a river, it flows to those who trust in me. Do not be afraid. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. Your foot will not strike the stone. I will rescue you.

If I were to offer any advice during this time of social distancing it would be this. Use this time to read the Bible. Y’all! There’s a wealth of truth and wisdom from the Lord inside those pages. Let them be a healing balm to your worried soul. Let them guide your decisions so that fear doesn’t lead you, but His peace sustains you. Listen to the real expert on what’s happening. Don’t just take my word for it.

Thank a Nurse, Today

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We all stood in a rough circle, listening to another briefing about safety policies and fluid plans going forward. I looked around at the nodding faces of my coworkers, asking important questions as needed, or giving suggestions to improve overall outcome. No one griped, guffawed, or rolled their eyes. We listened to conversations of personal protective equipment running low, and straightforward statements that a nursing shortage was on the horizon. Stoic, we stood tall, and not one person said, “that’s it. I’m outta here!”

That’s not what nurses did. When the going got tough, we got tougher. I was reminded of my time in the military. Serving during 9/11, I was active duty when the war in Iraq first began. I watched my spouse and 90% of my coworkers leave the hospital to deploy overseas. In their absence I worked 12 hours shifts, seven days a week, for thirty days straight until reservists arrived to help. And although I held honor, courage, and commitment at my core, let’s be honest; I didn’t have a choice. I belonged to the U.S. Government, and I worked in hard conditions because, “that’s what you told me to do, Lieutenant Dan.” But seriously, I did my duty without question. Civilian Nurses, they’re a little different.

I want you to understand something very important. All the things you’re feeling, you are not alone. Feeling scared? Overwhelmed? Worried for your family? Despite the frequent assumption otherwise, nurses are indeed human, with emotions and needs. We don’t want to become sick with COVID-19 anymore than the next person, and we don’t get jazzed about possibly taking it home to our young children, elderly parents, or immune comprised spouse. We get tired when we work extra, and we need to go grocery shopping too. Today, after my twelve hour shift, I stopped and picked through the scraps left at my local grocery store.

Your bedside nurse isn’t immune to deadly viruses, but they go to work each and every shift, fearless. We utilize our training and knowledge to stand on the frontline despite the fact that we have all the concerns you may be feeling right this very moment. Any nurse could call out sick, walk away, or refuse that request to work overtime, but we don’t. We face the music, no matter how screechy the melody, and we dance a graceful waltz through uncharted waters.

I guess it sounds like I’m tooting our own horn, or uninvitedly skywriting “Nurses Rock,” but doggone it, I can’t help it. I’m proud to be a nurse, and I’m proud to stand firm alongside some amazing men and women. They come in each shift, already, with sick children at home, a chronically ill, aging parent in their thoughts, or a relationship on the rocks thanks to long hours and less weekends off. Never mind showing up with a smile when a pandemic is on the rise.

Today was a crazy day at the hospital bedside. I saw more movement than we wanted, and I saw a team pick up the reigns. I heard a stray, “I’m tired,” or as 7pm neared a weary, “I’m ready to go home,” but I never heard a real complaint. I never saw a bad attitude today, and there was more than a few things that could make a person flip. I saw what I see most, every day. I saw nurses caring for their patients with compassion and skill. I saw my peers intervening to save lives, and advocating for the people in their care. In this regard, it wasn’t much different than any other day, other than all the masks, gowns, and protective eye wear. We still washed our hands, like we always do, and we used required precautions to prevent the spread of contagious disease. Again, like we always do.

I stood on the frontline today with a team that superbly carried out their duty, and despite the odds stacked against us, carried it out well. So, while a lot of things are uncertain and ever-changing in our world right now, one thing is the same. One thing is steady despite the storm, firmly rooted despite the slipping sand. It’s your bedside nurse. They are doing what they have always done. Excellent patient care with a smile. Your local Walmart may be out of toilet paper, and your child’s school may be closed, but your hospitals are still open, with all the amazing healthcare staff present and doing what they do best. In uncertain times, you can still count on that.

So, thank a nurse today! Thank the doctors, techs, therapists, and many other frontline staff. Show your gratitude to your police officers, and all the other people who go about their work just like any other day, with just a bit more stress in the mix. Wink, wink. I’m proud to stand in the ranks with so many who help keep this world going, even when life wants to shut it down.

What to Say When You See a Nurse Sitting Down

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I think part of the problem is you’re not used to seeing it. A nurse sitting down, I mean. There’s a reason I put a step counter app on my phone. It helps me feel justified when I’m scarfing down a couple of donuts at 4pm because I’m starving from a skipped lunch. Point being, the miles I walk on any given day at the patient bedside would trump just about any exercise routine I might try to begin. Between back and forth trips to a room or quick dashes to the pharmacy, I definitely burn my fair share of calories. What I don’t do a lot of, in comparison, is sit. And even if I am sitting, I’m usually charting. Yet that’s not the moment a passerby will catch me.

If you’ve been a nurse any length of time then you know that nursing has its own cruel version of Murphy’s Law. This happenstance will mean that uttering the word “quiet” makes crazy things happen, or that saying you’re all caught up will make the stool hit the fan. It’s that peculiar nuisance that makes your face itch like crazy when you’re fully donned in PPE, or your patient’s blood pressure plummet right after you lose your one working IV. You know what else it is? It’s the fact that the moment you sit down to take a break two things will happen. Either a call light will go off, or someone who isn’t working the bedside will walk by.

Ahhhh. You see the nurse, phone in hand, leg propped up. My, they almost look like they’re on vacation. I totally get it. First thoughts might be, “wow, guess nobody works here,” or perhaps “they need something to do!” It does look that way. But I wonder what might happen if we all put ourselves in the shoes of another before making snap judgments in haste?

I think you’d find out some things you might not know about your nurse. The propped leg? Maybe that’s to rest and alleviate pain in their bad knee that aches something awful after 13 hours on their feet. I find as a middle-aged woman that my body no longer agrees with how young I desire to be, but instead reacts like someone much older, especially after lifting the weight of others for three days straight.

Did you consider the phone use is a quick text home, checking on a sick child or a parent who’s fallen? It’s easy to forget in a population that spends the majority of its time caring for others, but nurses have families with needs of their own. As your nurse is giving 100% to the sick people under their care, their hearts still cry internally for whatever is going on at home. But you know what? Even if that nurse was checking their social media, it’s the first time they’ve relaxed all day, what, with keeping that post-op patient who’s been circling the drain from buying a one way ticket to heaven.

I think we forget the emotional stress and physical strain nurses go through on any given shift. It’s easy to forget the weighty stress of keeping someone alive. We miss the fact that the bedside nurse can spend hours at one person’s side, forgoing their own needs, to alleviate whatever ails the one under their care. But those are the unseen things. Those are the hidden gems a nurse performs each shift. They just see it as part of the job, and they certainly won’t brag. You’ll never know how they made that suicidal woman feel special for the first time in her life, or how they intervened for the safety of their patient, preventing what could have been a deadly event. You won’t see those secret steps a nurse makes each day, but you will see them sitting at the desk, apparently with nothing to do.

Maybe next time we see that nurse in that brief moment of respite and much needed rest we can think something like, “good for them. They need that moment of stillness to recharge for the difficulties ahead.” Because, you see, nurses are like a vessel, pouring out so much of themselves, but as everyone knows, any container eventually runs dry. So perhaps the next time you see a nurse sitting you should just know that they’re there for a refill before the next round of serving begins.

When I Realized I’d Never Be Enough

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I’d like to think that after forty-two years of transversing this life, I wouldn’t give a hoot what people think of me. And for the most part, I typically don’t. I mean, I’m certainly not the young, flat-chested teen I used to be, trying my best to fit in with the kids at the cool table. Heck, I’m not even the harried woman I was in my thirties who replayed every single conversation, encounter, or confrontation for at least the next 48 hours, hoping I could change my reaction. Like that old cigarette ad used to say, I’ve come a long way, baby, but this week showed me I still had a ways to go.

I wonder, will I ever be enough? For others, or even, more importantly, for myself? I’m not sure.

The past year I felt I had finally entered into a more confident season of life. I counted myself as a seasoned professional, an asset to my coworkers, a dependable part of the team. Even though it still seemed shocking to me to have so many years under my belt, I finally felt like I could walk confidently in my role as a seasoned, experienced nurse. Yet as I’ve found myself waking into new roles and responsibilities this year, I’ve felt lacking. I’ve had moments where I thought, “I must look like a total moron!” And I’ve worried more in the past few weeks about my performance in one area than I have in two years of traveling to unknown and unfamiliar hospital settings across the country.

As I saw myself moving towards the specific ministry callings God was leading me into, I realized I was being distracted by the voices. You know the ones I’m talking about. The voices that always tell you what you are not.

You don’t know enough to do this.

You aren’t equipped for this.

You don’t have the ability to carry this out like it deserves.

The voices say, “you’re not enough.”

They tell little lies. That subsequently sound like they could be true.

They think you’re an idiot for what you said.

You sound so full of yourself!

You know they’re just humoring you, right?

I even found myself questioning my relationships with family. People that I am incredibly comfortable with, I suddenly began questioning my interactions with them. I didn’t think I was a good sister, or sensitive enough to the needs of others.

He hates you, probably.

Yeah, she’s not texting back because you made her mad.

It’s the same voices that make you feel like you don’t belong, like an outcast, like relationships aren’t for you.

The only place I felt like I was achieving my goals was in my own home, and the comfort of being a good wife and mother kept me steady. Yet I was struggling in my other life roles. I felt convicted of my over-the-top concerns, and I questioned if I was putting the desire to please man above the Lord. So, I told myself, “I am good enough for God.”

But y’all, that didn’t help much with the fact that I felt lacking in areas of life that deserved more of me. Or that I felt deserved more of me. Because we are all our own worst enemy, am I right?

This morning the Lord got honest with me, and you know how we all need that hard truth hammered home sometimes!

I felt like God said, “Brie, you are not enough. You’ll never be enough.”

Gosh, He was right. As good as I tried to be, I wasn’t Mary Poppins. I’d never be practically perfect in every way. I couldn’t measure up to my own expectations or even that of the world around me, and there was something freeing about admitting that. Saying to myself, “yep, you’ll never be enough.” You see, it was a relief because of what the Lord whispered next.

He said, “but Jesus. He is enough.”

I could not measure up, but through Him I could step up. I could step into all the things God has for me. Alone, I definitely wasn’t enough to fill the shoes He had laid down, but with Him I could still walk confidently, walk forward, walk in peace.

I’d never be enough, but Jesus? Well, He had already paid more than enough for me for all eternity.

How I Fell in Love With Nursing. Again.

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First love is easy, isn’t it? With stars in your eyes and a naive nature, you swing headfirst and heart-strong into the relationship. You have dreams for the future, the butterflies for excitement to spur you forward, and even a bit of healthy hesitancy to keep you honest. But somewhere between that first date (or shift in the case of nursing) and eventual broken expectations, you end up feeling betrayed. It’s nothing like you hoped it could be. You end up disappointed, likely broken-hearted, and sadly, if your experience was especially harsh, guarded and skeptical for any silver lining that might exist up ahead. Sound familiar?

A profession you can truly love isn’t that different from a romantic relationship. It’s something that gives your life a new purpose, a reason to hope, excitement, and the ability to get better at it as you go along. It’s the chance to think of someone other than yourself, but like any relationship, the one with your career can become strained. I’ve been in the medical field for 20 years now, and I think I’ve experienced every stage of the process. I mean, if Nursing was Dante’s Inferno, I probably transversed through every circle. Y’all, I fell out of love with it, and it took purposeful determination to make my way back into my partner’s good graces. At one point, I think I hated it. Just being brutally honest here.

That first year was something, am I right? Fear, panic, but somehow an exciting adrenaline rush, a pride that I’ve discovered you can’t let slip away. I was proud to be a nurse. I was proud of my vocation, and I was proud of the hard work it took to get me there. I was proud of that R, and of that N, and for a while no one could take that from me. But then came the bad apples. Damn, if they don’t ruin the barrel.

Somewhere between holding an elderly woman’s hand and double charting for the billionth time, my heart started to harden. Do you know the difference between a good nurse and a great nurse? I was always a good nurse. I took care of my patients, and I got the job done. I was honest (for the most part), and I did no harm (that I’m aware of). I smiled at my patients’ faces, and I even meant about 80% of what I said. This will sound so harsh to the layman, but my fellow nurses will understand. It’s not easy giving all of yourself with little to nothing in return. I mean, yeah, you get the paycheck, but that even seems paltry in the face of preventing death or giving up Christmas with your family. So, it becomes a job. A thing you do, day in and day out. I can even recall telling my husband I felt stuck. Lord, help me, I did. I could think of no other “job” where I could work 24 hours, yet get paid for forty hours, while maintaining the best benefits offered in our little city.

I ask again, do you know the difference between a good nurse and a great nurse? A good nurse gets the job done, but a great nurse loves the job they get to do. I guess I had to move from one to get to the other.

All I know is, I entered the field like a young, star-crossed lover, but about a decade into it, I wanted to breakup. I had become disillusioned, and it wasn’t what I thought it could be. Maybe I entered the career thinking I could make so many differences, but I wasn’t open to what could change in me. I became a woman focused on the obstacles before me, and blinded to any blessings scattered throughout. I wasn’t heartless, mind you; I still felt contentment when a patient told me how much my care had meant to them. But those Hallmark moments couldn’t outweigh the injustices I felt. I focused on every single hardship in my field, and I took personally each offense. I allowed the Negative Nancy’s to feed the fire of bitterness inside me, and I assumed every demanding patient canceled out the kind ones. There’s certainly that need for self-care, but I think I came to a place where it was almost always about me.

“Why is this so hard,” I asked, never contemplating for very long how it must be on the other side of the bed.

“What do they expect of me,” I would question angrily, without asking myself what I might give.

I saw my field only as a difficult endeavor, and seldom as a privilege. I carried the weight of a thousand martyrs, except I had forgotten the cause for which I gave myself. I was a good nurse, who did my job, but not a great nurse who loved the opportunity to do it. And I suppose that’s many of us. It’s not that we don’t enjoy what we do; it’s just that sometimes we hate it just as much. That sounds so terrible, when I type it out like that, but if you’ve never held a position where you don’t cry while cleaning the dead body of someone you just hugged that morning, then you may not understand. If you haven’t been punched, kicked, or called the worst of all swear words by someone you’re trying to help, then you won’t get it. If you haven’t cringed over calling someone in a position above you, knowing they will scream at you merely for doing your job, then this may seem like harsh words. If you haven’t felt the anxiety of trying to do the work of two people, while not making a mistake that could cost someone else’s life and your career, then you just won’t have a clue. It’s not easy to carry the weight of so much on tired shoulders, and for many who do, they end up angry and perhaps even resentful for a profession they once loved so much.

Back to the relationship bit, it’s as if the marriage is falling apart, and you don’t want a divorce, but you can’t look at his socks balled up on the floor another day or you might snap. I guess sometimes, when you realize you don’t love them like you used to, you have to take it back to the beginning. You have to remember the first time you saw them, that first date, or first, tender kiss. The spark is still there. You just gotta know how to stoke it.

I recall sitting in a computer class taking a critical care course, and I was digging it. Us Critical Care folks, we love all that medical stuff! Sitting there, I knew I loved the knowledge. I loved the dynamics. I loved the process. I loved the people. I loved making a difference in people’s lives. I loved nursing. I did. It was time to act like it.

Back when my husband and I were just dating, I remember we had been off again, on again, at one point. I had found out some stuff, and each of us had been idiots. We loved each other, we knew that, but we were kinda just coasting along, existing as a couple. Like, maybe involved, but not committed entirely to the future of it. Well, anyway, I remember standing in the card aisle on Valentine’s and I had found the perfect, mushy card for him, when suddenly God smacked me upside the head.

It was like, God said, “Brie, if you’re going to give that to him, you need to mean it.”

And I was like, dang, you’re right. I love him. I really do. We can work through this.

And we did. Every day since our relationship got better, and even now, each day is better than the last. I guess, I had to come to a place in my nursing career that was similar. I loved it, but I had to start acting like it. I had to do more than just show up. I had to get invested. I couldn’t focus on my husband’s faults, any more than I could deny my own. And I couldn’t selfishly fixate on what nursing took out of me. I had to start giving of myself more. I had to see through clear eyes. If you focus on a stain, that’s all you see. What you should look at is the fact that the fabric is still good. It can be washed. Nursing was still good. I think my vision of it had just become tainted.

My career truly began to change when I focused on the opportunity to provide care, the privilege of meeting people at their darkest hour, and leading them back into the light. I threw off sympathy and instead embraced empathy. I put myself in my patient’s shoes. Heck, even the administrators’ shoes. I saw my occupation as the ministry it was, my chance to care for the hurting, and to help those in need. I didn’t face the relationship with what I could gain, but what I could give. I didn’t focus on what wrong was being done to me, but rather what good I could sow into it. Y’all, I fell in love all over again, and it wasn’t because the object of my affection was perfect, but because it gave me purpose, passion, and a sense of fulfillment. Was it still hard, at times? Yes! But beyond that it was good. In fact, it was great. And then I realized, I was great too.

A Word of Advice for the New Nurse

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I was walking down the hall this morning with a new nurse, and she asked, “so, were you an IV nurse before this?”

She said it with genuine respect as I followed her down the hall to the room of her “hard stick.”

“Nah,” I replied. “I’ve just been putting em in for twenty years.”

“That’ll do it,” she replied in awe.

I wasn’t even working on that floor. It was one I sometimes floated to, and I had run quickly there from my Intensive Care Unit to grab a stowed jacket. When this new nurse had seen me her eyes lit up, and she eagerly let me know she needed me. It seems I had quickly garnered the reputation on that floor of being very skilled at inserting IV’s. As I walked with her to her room (confident that whatever veins awaited me I’d nail it first try) I realized just how odd this was.

I had become the nurse you asked to help you get an IV started in a patient with “bad veins.”

It was crazy, but I was the one you came to when you had a question, needed a second opinion, or encountered something you had never seen before.

Even more crazy, it had occurred to me over the past year that I had become that older nurse with decades of experience that I used to look up to. Now I was the more seasoned RN on the floor.

I bet you’re wondering when the advice is going to come in. Well, here’s the thing. Most of the time it seems like only yesterday that I was the one with shaking hands when I started my first IV (or two, or three), or that I was the one going insane questioning every single move I made. I was the anxious young woman with a nervous stomach. I was the one afraid to call and wake up the doctor. I was the nurse scared to death of making a mistake, running my butt off to try and get things done on time, but leaving an hour late regardless. That was me. But now, it’s not.

Time passes quick at the bedside. It may not feel like it when you’re trying to make it through a crazy, twelve hour shift, but trust me. One day you will look up and realize a year has gone by, then two, five, and beyond if you decide to stay. On a side note, the patients hope you will. There are far too few of us seasoned (but not salty) bedside RN’s left.

So, here’s what I want you to do. I want you to enjoy yourself. I know that’s not always easy when you’re trying not to bang your head against the wall in frustration, but bear with me. You see, right now is a wonderful opportunity for you. You have the chance to be a sponge, to ask a thousand dumb inquisitive questions, and to take every instance you can to learn.

I remember as a young nurse feeling like I should know more, and often times I neglected to ask for confirmation on a situation because I didn’t want to appear like an idiot. Don’t get me wrong. I never did anything to put my patient at risk, but I did lose many opportunities to increase my knowledge in favor of saving face.

I can also recall not taking chances, not grabbing at situations where I could grow my knowledge base and skill level. Rather than missing an IV that looked hard, I might just ask someone else to do it for me. When faced with the chance to take care of a really critical patient, I would be more than willing to pass it along. This only hurt me. My fear of messing up held me back. Don’t do that.

Being a new nurse is hard. Even though you went to school there’s still so much to learn! I get it. But don’t let this keep you from grabbing those extra certifications and educational opportunities. These things will only add to your knowledge, making you a better nurse in the long run.

So, if you’re just barely keeping your head above water as a new grad, hang in there. Know you’re not the first to feel that way. But just make sure you don’t end up floating along content on still waters. Stir it up. Realize that while being a new nurse is hard, what can be really difficult is being an older nurse who everyone comes to. Because one day you will look up to ask a question, and you’ll realize you’re the most experienced person there. You will be the one people come to. You’ll be the one teaching others, mentoring new nurses, and offering your venipuncture skills to the masses. It happens before you know it. So enjoy your season to learn and grow. Your future patients will thank you.

The Curse of Healthcare

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We’ve gotten really good at what we do. Have you noticed that? Hey, I’m all for it, for the most part, and if you or your family have come through my doors, you probably are too. The technological advances are amazing, and the things we can do are such a blessing to so many! I mean, diabetes used to kill little kids, but now modern medicine gives us the ability to live longer despite chronic illness. Widow Makers no longer make widows as much anymore, and the number of people who survive things like a ruptured aortic aneurysm has increased. Teens are surviving that deadly car wreck that no human should have survived, neonatal medicine saves babies that would have been doomed, and cancer no longer automatically spells death sentence. It’s wonderful! Except when it’s not.

It’s been going on a while, but I’m starting to see it more and more. I can glimpse pieces of the unraveling fabric that is good medicine. I can see where healthcare fails by being so damn good. I watch us become our own worst enemy, playing God a little too sufficiently, and we’re left with nothing but the hope that He can get us out of the mess we ourselves created.

Let’s say an elderly woman walks into the grocery store and falls face first into the frozen food shelving. Her heart has stopped. The blood is no longer pumping to her vital organs, and without that precious blood she lacks one other important ingredient for life. Oxygen.

A bystander who remembers enough from the community CPR course they took last summer arrives to the scene and initiates first response. 9-1-1 is called, EMS arrives quickly, the woman is zoomed to the nearest ER (which is really close because we’re building more and more satellite ERs everyday). Everything goes seamlessly, y’all. The CPR was high quality, the paramedics fast-acting, and the ER physician on-point, but despite the stellar work of the healthcare team a delay in the previously mentioned oxygen happens. You can’t die and not suffer some sort of repercussion of that, but what’s changed is how easily we can go forward from there.

Is your heart too weak to pump on its own? No problem. We have a machine for that.

If you don’t have a blood pressure high enough to pump blood throughout your body, no worries, we have medicine for that. A good handful, actually, and we’ll give you the maximum dosage of every single one!

Can’t breathe? You guessed it. We’ll breathe for you! You just rest a few days and we’ll handle the tough stuff.

And while all these advances are amazing and much needed, the problem is that sometimes they aren’t. Or perhaps they shouldn’t be. The problem with getting so good at playing God is dealing with the consequences of our actions.

So, remember our 86 year old grandma who passed out by the frozen ice cream? Well, ice cream is part of her problem. According to lab results and an ultrasound of her kidneys, she hasn’t been controlling her diabetes. Her kidneys are shot, her body is in shock, the waste isn’t exiting her body like it should, and all those life-sustaining medicines we’re pumping in aren’t really being dumped out on their own.

No problem, though. We can be her kidneys. We got this.

She’s swollen to the point of her skin busting, and her nurses are changing pads underneath her constantly from the fluid that is literally oozing out of her pores. We have medicines for this too. We call it a balancing act, you see, maintaining a blood pressure compatible with life while pulling off excessive fluid. As of now, it’s building up, backing up from her already damaged heart into her already supported lungs.

Kidney failure, heart failure, respiratory failure, these are nothing new to your critical care team. We see it all the time, and we’re pretty frigging good at keeping you alive despite all the failing organs, infection, and unexpected complications. What I’m trying to say is maybe sometimes we’re too good.

See, we’re great at fixing what’s broken, but some things we cannot fix. We can’t fix things like our precious aforementioned grammy not getting enough oxygen flow to her brain before her heart was restarted. We can’t make an EEG show brain activity when none is there. We can’t cure chronic conditions; we can only extend the life of them. And even then, when is enough enough?

I don’t want to sound heartless or cruel, because that’s not what this is. It’s the opposite, in fact. It’s the voice of a caring bedside nurse who sees the pain in a daughter’s eyes when her mom’s poor prognosis is explained and she’s asked if she wishes to withdraw care.

The blessing of healthcare is we’re so good at what we do.

The curse of healthcare is we’re so good at what we do.

We can artificially feed an individual who has no awareness of the world around them. We can do this forever.

We can bring back and sustain a life that probably should have moved on to Heaven. We can create prolonged suffering. It’s not the intention, but it happens. Without our high-functioning intervention a son would have had to suffer through the unexpected, quick death of his dad. But, he wouldn’t have had to watch his father waste away, a shell of himself, skin turning purple, skin breaking down. I don’t say these things to downplay the travesty, but rather to highlight it, to bring awareness to the devastation that can occur when a body lives on, when perhaps it should not have.

So, where do we draw the line? I wish I knew. As of now, we have advanced directives, and unless those say otherwise, we, as the healthcare team, will fight tooth and nail to ward off demise. We will throw a patient everything we have, which with today’s technology, is almost literally the kitchen sink. And I am so proud to be a part of these crusaders against death. Sometimes, though, in retrospect, you see the suffering all around you and you wish you hadn’t.

When keeping a body alive hurts, and there’s no known or likely chance of recovery, you wish you weren’t so good at what you do. When the lights are on, but no one is home, you wish nature could have taken its course. When suffering is prolonged, healthcare almost seems like hurt-care.

The number of nurses are declining, but the number of patients are increasing. People live longer (which is a good thing), but sadly a large number of the bedside nurses who see on a daily basis the suffering of patients, they’re leaving that same bedside. They’re going to further their education or into administrative positions where they don’t have to explain to another family that their loved one has zero chance of recovering after they were revived.

Quality of life is sacrificed just for life, often times a shell of one, and it’s not up to nursing to decide what is considered quality and what is not. They just watch from the sidelines where that conversation is concerned. It’s emotionally exhausting, and I think where a lot of burnout derives. Many times the healthcare team is the only one that sees the reality/downfall of sustained life that should be let go. The families don’t come. They call frequently, make demands, but they don’t come to witness the hard stuff. I get it; it just doesn’t make it any easier in the end. I can’t tell you how many hands I held when they needed it most.

But I guess that’s what we’re here for, right? We’re here to save them, and to rejoice when they improve. But we’re also there to suffer with them as they slowly die. It’s hard for everyone involved. I suppose we take the good with the bad. We give a man with a 100% blockage to his heart muscle a second chance, where he holds his grandkids, and sits on the front porch swing with his wife. But we also break ribs. We put surgical holes in people, place lifelong tubes there, and whisper a desperate prayer as we try and do no harm.

I try to focus on the successes. I try to listen to God’s voice really hard. I pray. I pray a lot. But mostly I just love on folks. Every single one. The ones we save, the ones we don’t, the ones we shouldn’t have, the ones where we didn’t know. Because in the end, many times, love may be all we can give.

Have the Conversation!

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Have the conversation.

Even if you think you’re too young.

Believe me, you’re not.

I’ve seen muscled, young men, college bound, who haven’t met the right girl just yet. I’ve seen them laying there, those same muscles wasting away, and the truth hanging in the air that they will never meet the right girl.

I’ve watched Mommas fall flat on their face in a torrent of hot tears, torn over what decision to make.

“Maybe he’d want us to keep fighting for him!!”

Trust me, he wouldn’t. He’s gone.

Have the conversation.

Even if you’re not sick.

I’ve seen thirty year old men who run marathons have a widow maker. I’ve seen the most fit fall to a heart attack that not only steals the oxygen from their heart, but also takes the blood supply from their brain far too long. A young wife with a toddler on their hip shouldn’t be forced to decide whether it’s time to tell their daddy goodbye. She should have the peace that letting go was what he would have wanted. Now she feels like she’s literally pulling the plug as a five year old, wobbly waif of a child pleads, “when’s Poppa coming home?”

Have the conversation.

Even if you think your although aging, but robust and spry parent will be offended by the topic.

“I’m not sure what Dad wanted. I always thought we had more time.”

“Maw was too proud to talk about dying. Now I don’t know what to do!”

“Why did she put this on me?!”

I’ve seen siblings fight over what they think Mom wanted. I’ve seen ugly spats and downright barroom brawls, except they’re fought right over a hospital bed. No parent wants that. I’ve seen no one want to make the call. I’ve seen everyone think they know best. Why guess?

“My brother is the oldest. It’s his job to decide.”

“You haven’t been around in ten years! What qualifies you to know what she would want to do?!”

Have the conversation.

Even if you’re facing a hard battle ahead.

Making your wishes known doesn’t equal defeat. You can say, “I want to fight this,” while also saying, “when the battle is over, I want to surrender in dignity.” Talking about the what if’s doesn’t mean “I give up.” It just makes it easier for your family to let go if and when you do.

Have the conversation.

Even if you’ve gotten better.

I’ve seen doctors break the news to a patient’s family that were all just celebrating remission that the cancer is back.

“It’s everywhere. There’s nothing we can do.”

Have the conversation.

Even if you’re healthy as a horse.

“Mom has always been so healthy. She doesn’t even take any medicine!”

I’ve watched children cry over the bed of their previously healthy parent. In the shock of terrible news, in the wake of unthinkable odds, no one should be expected to make life and death decisions, but they have to.

I’ve seen a husband flabbergasted that his wife he kissed that morning before his shower is now hanging by a thread after a car wreck.

“We never talked about it. We meant to; we just didn’t.”

Have the conversation.

Even if you think you have all the time in the world.

You don’t. Tomorrow isn’t promised. Don’t wait.

We buy life insurance. It’s considered prudent. If something happens to you, you want your family taken care of financially. But what about their emotional well-being? Do you really want to place upon your spouse and children the hard decision of how you want to leave this world?

Do you want to let nature take its course? Do you want to fight until there’s no fight left? What about when the fight is lost? Can they let you go then?

Have the conversation.

I’ve seen shells of a former person laying in the bed. A machine does all the breathing. Rows of intravenous medications keep the blood pressure and heart rate compatible with life. Fingers and toes cold and purple. The nurses turn the patient every two hours because they can’t even shift their own weight to prevent their skin from eating away to the bone. Tubes in every open hole, food through the one sticking out of their nose. It’s hard to see, hard to talk about. No one wants to imagine.

I’ve seen family stay away because it’s too painful to watch. We’re left to hold the limp hand of the dying, the last face they see. No one wants to talk about it.

Medicine is good. I praise God for the knowledge and skill to bring people back from the brink of death! But there’s also only so much we can do. That’s why you have to have the conversation. You have to help us know when you would want to stop.

I’m all in favor of giving it everything we’ve got! I’ve seen so many miracles, I could write a book! I’ve seen physicians say, “it doesn’t look good,” and then my God pick up the pieces and show out. I’ve been wrong. I’ve been certain a patient wouldn’t make it, wouldn’t get better, but then they have. So, I’m not asking you to wave the white flag before it’s time. But when there’s nothing left to do, know what they would want you to do. Tell your family what you would want. If it’s not your time, don’t worry, despite our clasped hands, you’ll bounce back just fine. I’ve seen it so many times. Sadly, I’ve also seen when it’s time, but family won’t let us let them go.

Have the conversation.

Have it when you’re young, when you’re older, when you’re well, and especially when you’re not. Have it now, while you still can, so your weeping family doesn’t have to have it then. Don’t do that to them, don’t do it to us, don’t do it to yourself.

I’ve felt arthritic bones crack under my compressing hands, and I’ve heard an elderly woman scream “it hurts” as the joules of electricity racked her body. When an organ is done, there’s not much we can do except prolong the agony. I got into the field of nursing to bring healing, not pain. When healing is no longer possible, only hurting remains. It’s not fair.

Have the conversation.

Trust me. Ask your family now what they want done if there’s nothing left for the healthcare team to do.

Tell your family now what you would want in the case that you’re unable to speak for yourself.

Did you never want a machine keeping you alive?

Let them know.

Do you want the whole kitchen sink thrown at you as long as there’s a chance, but then the drain pulled when there’s nothing left to be done?

Tell them. Get it in writing.

What if your brain is gone, but your body lives on? What if you’ll be unable to speak, eat, move, or recognize loved ones? Do you want to be kept alive with liquid food through a tube? Don’t leave the weight of these decisions on the people you love. Because sometimes they can’t make them. Then they count on us to have the hard conversations. We’re the ones holding your family as they weep, and we don’t mind it, but wouldn’t you have rather saved them the pain?

Don’t wait. Have the conversation.