I’m not sure where to begin. It’s a little surreal. Waiting for a tsunami you pray doesn’t come. Well, a little part of me thinks maybe if it comes we can get to the other side quicker. But I’m not sure so I wait while I hold my breath and pray it doesn’t come. Maybe, just maybe, we will be missed by it.
I’m tired. I’m trying not to be. But I am.
My team is tired. I see it on their face. Even more tired than before. I wonder if they’re wishing the wave would reach the shore so we can clean up the damage and move on. Or, are they holding their breath praying it stays at sea a little longer.
The balance of life and life with COVID. If you can call it a balance. I worry. Worry about virtual learning and children who are unsafe. Worry about people struggling to make it day by day without COVID let alone with it. Worry about victims of abuse and the hell they’re in. Worry about financial stress, defaulting on mortgages, evictions, and starvation. Worry about families who feel hopeless. Worry about the world from the devastation of COVID.
I worry about my team. Somewhere in the middle of all the worry of this world, they show up. Shoulders squared. Donned in ppe. Ready for the shift ahead. Even when they don’t feel like it. Even when they’re worried too. Even when they know they will face another death today. Because every single shift for enough days I’ve forgotten the count, someone has died on the COVID unit.
There is a misperception that people who work in hospitals deal with death and dying. Which we do. Not every single shift from one disease alone. It doesn’t really matter the age. Death is hard. Some person who is likely a father, grandparent, mother, sister, child, aunt, and friend takes their last breath on your watch. Again. It’s not even an easy death. It’s a miserable course of events. To struggle for air. Every. Single. Shift.
I worry about the frontline healthcare workers. Providers, nurses, respiratory therapists, assistants, and all of our vital ancillary support team members. I worry about the other side of COVID. What happens when you experience death every day you work for months. How that changes a heart. The memories of every patient lost for years to come. I worry for my team.
So, I won’t ask you to mask, social distance, wash your hands, or vaccinate as you’ve made your minds up already. Either you are or you aren’t. And as your nurse and healthcare leader I’ll respect you and care for you with the same compassion irrespective of your choice. Because it’s not if; it’s when. We will be standing there to care for you and/or your family.
But, I will ask you, to worry about your healthcare team with me. Worry enough to choose wisely. Worry enough to thank them. Worry enough to pray for them. Worry enough to forget about the politicians because they aren’t standing in the unit facing the death we do. Worry enough to care about us.
Sincerely,
Your worried nurse leader.
