Chapter 8 Audra
AUDRA
Today was a rough one. I picked up an overnight shift for someone, and it was not the night to pick up.
One of my charges was a two-year-old boy who had been on the regular floor and discharged.
But whatever he was dealing with came back with a vengeance and landed him on my PICU floor.
His parents were losing patience, and you could see the anger and defeat in their eyes.
I tried to keep things sunny and positive, but hospitals, as a patient or caregiver, could break your spirit.
There’s no doubt it’s a horrific thing to go through, but last night, I ended up being the verbal punching bag while his dad unloaded all his frustrations on me, which was inexcusable.
I wish I had an answer, or could make some miraculous discovery, but right now we were just scrapping along and treating reactively instead of proactively.
It was not a good situation to be on either side of.
I knew firsthand how difficult hospital stays were because the summer I was sixteen years old, my mother, brother, and I were walking on the sidewalk when a car barreled into us at around thirty-five miles an hour.
The woman who was driving the car had had a massive heart attack, losing consciousness and control of the car.
My mother successfully pushed my brother and me out of the way to save us.
But she lost her life. My brother was relatively unscathed, and though I had a glancing blow, I still sustained major injuries, including a punctured lung, broken femur, and other body bleeds.
They didn’t know if I was going to make it, and it was a long road to recovery.
It’s also the reason I went into PICU nursing.
My nurses were literal angels on Earth. They were my biggest cheerleaders, most valuable lifelines, and shoulders to cry on, saving me in more ways than one.
I don’t remember all their names anymore, but I’ll never forget how they made me feel.
And in a fun twist of fate, five years after the accident, one of those nurses, Trina, connected with my father on some widower app, and they married last year.
It made my brothers and me happy that our father had found a companion, and though no one would ever replace my mother, Trina was great for our family.
It’s also part of the reason I was so ridiculously close with my three best girlfriends, Cora, Maeve, and Juliette.
When on the road to recovery, it was the three of them who showed up without question to walk it with me.
They stayed with me in the hospital, kept my spirits up, and had me tag along on outings when I could, wheelchair and all.
When school started and I couldn’t attend yet, they brought my work home, and Cora tutored me as needed.
Dealing with the injuries I had on top of losing my mother almost took me out, but thanks to their support, and of course, professional therapy, I am on the other side.
My sweet Cora. She had recently been through the wringer herself.
She just split with her jerk of an ex-fiancé and moved back into town a couple of weeks ago.
I was so happy she came back because not only did it offer me the opportunity to return the favor of supporting her in person, but I just loved that she was here.
By the time I finished charting and made it home Friday morning, all I wanted was to sleep for a week—I was drained.
I loved nursing, but truth be told, I had a little trouble compartmentalizing the emotion of it.
There was no doubt in my mind that I was superb at my job and a fantastic person to have around in any emergency or high-stress situation, but when it was time to take a collective breath, my co-workers knew to find me in the bathroom or supply closet with leaky eyes.
My heart was tender, and I felt people’s emotions.
Sometimes I wondered if that empathy made me a better nurse, or if it would lead to burnout from the intensity of the job.
I’d only been working for a tick under four years, and the fact that I was even circling around phrases like weaning capacity, lower motivation, and lack of passion alarmed me.
It made me feel like I was on the precipice of failing at this.
But though it often felt overwhelming, I couldn’t leave the hospital high and dry.
Our staff and resources were stretched so thin as it were.
What would I have done if my nurses had left me when I needed them most?
But those were heavy thoughts after a long shift. At that moment, I really just needed to wash my night away in a scalding hot shower. After a night of sleep, things should look better in the morning.