Sometimes the Truth is Hard to Swallow



For All of Us


Betty B. RN

Human rights violations happen daily, probably hourly, to front line staff and nurses.  “Suck it up, buttercup- you signed up for it.” That’s the general consensus.

We signed up to give. We didn’t sign up to be sucked dry and abused by the same system that is supposed to help the community. Am I not also part of the community I give to daily? Apparently not when I’m in scrubs.

If I kicked a coworker or patient- spit on them or threw poop, pee, blood, or vomit, called them bitches and whores, backed them into a corner, threatened and said “give me what I want or I’ll slam your effing face into the wall!!” I would be fired and possibly arrested for assault or intimidation. SO WHY IS THIS ALLOWED ON A DAILY BASIS IN EMERGENCY ROOMS AND HOSPITAL FLOORS IN EVERY FREAKING HOSPITAL IN THIS COUNTRY?!

The last guy who threaten to punch me in the face? I took my glasses off and said, “Do it. I need a workers comp vacation.” I meant it, too. How the fuck do I get out of this hell hole without losing a body part or my sanity?

That was the beginning of the break of willfully standing in harms way and thinking it is NORMAL or ACCEPTABLE to be abused. You can only be bent so far until you are broken. There is an alternative option to being a victim or volunteer. It’s not suicide, although that can look pretty damn viable when it’s easier to wash off the c-diff than the hopelessness

Walk away. If all we know is abuse, then anything else is easy. I guarantee you, you will never regret not fearing for your sanity, your safety, or your soul, again.

I don’t know how long it will take for me to stop cringing when I hear my name called by management. I still assess a room the minute I enter it to scan for danger zones and safe escapes. I am working on my eye contact with other humans on my days off. I have fewer heart racing 3 am wake ups in a sweaty oh-shit-I-forgot-to-do 3-of-those-394759667-million-tasks-I-was-told-to-do-or-fear-for-my-job panic. I don’t cry every day from exhaustion or dread of another shift exercising my complete futility in a system that makes caregivers simply givers, or even worse, the sheer scariness of feeling nothing at all.

We save the world-who saves us? No one. That’s the most soul wrenching painful realization. Who will give everything to save ME, like I do to save others? Who will lose sleep if I don’t make it? No one. They’ll only notice if I miss my shift.

Except my kids. My husband. My widowed mother. My sisters. But no one I have handed my blood, sweat and tears, my best youthful years, my back, my spirit, my naivety, my life spark, my love of humanity, my need to make a difference-not one of those mother fuckers will stop and assess my pain and make a plan of care to save me.

Am I really contemplating increasing my life insurance so my husband can have a better nest egg before I off myself w a bottle full of prescription meds that I have received as consolation prizes for leaving the best parts of me in the wrong places? I want to die because I’ve given too much of me away.

I can’t unsee or unfeel or unknow all I have witnessed in this profession. I can not have back the pieces of my heart I have willingly given to my patients.  What I can do is refuse further abuse of my battered heart. My aching feet. My weary head. My sorry soul.

Part of nursing is saying no. No you can’t eat cake with a blood sugar of 500. No you cannot have sex in your bed with your boyfriend in a semi private room in the hospital. No you can’t lay in bed for days after surgery. No you can’t get up to go to the bathroom after you’ve had a heart catheterization and are at risk for popping in artery and bleeding out.

Sometimes saying no is saying yes. Yes you deserve better. Yes you are worthy. Yes you can live. Just as surgeons pull out tumors and dying tissue, so must we stop allowing the cancerous culture of a predatory system from metastasizing. No you don’t have to take it. No you aren’t weak for saying you are hurt, weary, and in need of your own good care.
No. This cancer taking over our professional and spiritual life is not okay.

We are so good at being patient advocates. Why is it so hard for us to advocate for ourselves? We are indoctrinated to believe that giving is selfless. Taking is selfish. Saying yes to ourselves is selfish. It’s hard to say “I’ve had enough.” Why? Why is it easier to say it when it means taking a stand for others? We are we so uncomfortable to do for ourselves what we would advocate for our patients!

So stand for the nurse on the other side of the bed doing compressions with you. Take a stand for the nurse in front of you at the Pyxis machine taking out her hourly morphine dose for the drug seeking patient who is verbally abusing her. Take a stand for that crabby burned out nurse who will never look you in the eye, but is a well full of information, if you just get past her self protective snark. Take a stand for that mother-friend and all-around good person that resides within you.

You are worthy. You are an excellent nurse. You deserve better. Bend but don’t be broken. Be the nurse you need. For you. For your family. For that patient in the bed who isn’t trying to bash your head in. (Security can deal with that mofo.)

There is more to this nursing gig than just taking orders. More than chart checks, calculations, titrations and IV drip double checks and charting in triplicate. There’s more than meetings on your day off about productivity and why you suck because patient satisfaction scores aren’t in the range the CEO you have never seen thinks they should be. There’s more than being shamed for not getting your 19284 administrative tasks done-those same tasks once delegated to ancillary staff so you could do patient care. Now, thanks to “budget cuts,” your patients lives and their properly filed chart are of equal importance. You’re not a robot. You’re not supposed to be a robot.

Do not let them tell you this is all there is. Thieves, addicts and patients lie. So do hospital administrators. Say no so you can say yes. You matter. You are not replaceable. You are needed and loved. You deserve to be the nurse you set out to be.

Signs of a Toxic Work Environment

You flinch when someone says your name.

You only see management when something goes wrong.

It’s all about blame versus problem-solving.

You have diarrhea before your shift.

You have diarrhea after your shift.

You fantasize about ways you can get hurt and file a Worker’s Comp claim so you don’t have to go back.

You wonder how you can possibly get through one more shift much less another two or three decades until retirement.

You contemplate increasing your life insurance so your family will have a better nest egg once you’re gone.

You count your sick days like addicts count pills.

You take pills so you can get through your workday.

You think about starting a home lobotomy business and know your coworkers will buy into your MLM plan.

You fantasize about being homeless instead of worrying about being homeless.

You think moving to a Third World country would be a vacation.

You have two or more stress related illnesses.

The idea of talking to people on your days off puts you into a panic.

They tell you you’ll never get another job and you believe them.

You wonder if prison has a better work life balance.

Bitch Nurse

You said it before
You’ll say it’s a fact
I’m a bitch and a whore
For forgetting your snack.

You think I’m so lazy
For taking a break
I was ignoring your call
To pee for freaks sake.

I run around like crazy
There’s no end in sight
Three patients are crashing
Please save me this night.

My patients are angry
They’re acting like dicks
Because it took me 10 minutes
To get you that fix.

I run and I strive
To meet your demands
But that does not mean
I’m a slave to commands.

My manager says work harder
And quicker with glee
Or soon find yourself
With no job you will see.

So your nurse is a bitch
Who doesn’t run when you yell
And is abused and harassed
For not serving you well.

You think I deserve
To be hit, punched, and slapped
Because you are unhappy
With your stay; you feel trapped.

You think you’re a victim
You think you’re in jail
There’s no accountability
For your physical fail.

So stay away from hospitals
From nurses who care
Avoiding your misery
Of being saved from despair.


The Extinguishable Flame


By P. Pharm, RN

The flame that ignites passion
Born deep in our souls
Can burn out rather quickly
If left out in the cold.

I’ve lost much that I loved
In a combustible mess
That flame kept on taking
And left me with less.

It traveled from my hands
To my head and to my toes
It turned my pink to gray
My heart was last to go.

The thumps turned into nothing
My blood into messy ash
Tears evaporated in silence
My essence left as trash.

We are not garbage to lose
To forget and to be thrown out
We give everything until nothing
We are priceless no doubt.

I am experienced and tenured
Jaded and sweetly sour
Beaten and abused
Forced to apologize and cower.

We are not a special piece
Of a workable puzzle
We are replaceable and silent
Wearing a professional muzzle.

So when someone looks fresh
Like moldable new clay
Their flame can die out quickly
To be forgotten and blown away.

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