Debbie Moore-Black is a nurse who blogs at Do Not Resuscitate.
I go to the hospital cafeteria to unwind from this night — another unpredictable one with irrational patients that randomly attempt to assault the staff.
This time, they missed. Behavioral health. Land of the psychotics and schizophrenics. But an incredible staff to work with.
This song blares out. “Easy Like Sunday Morning.” And I know that nothing is “easy” anymore.
I’ve heard it all about COVID vaccinations:
“It’s my body.”
“It’s not FDA-approved.”
“I have natural …
Maybe we can take a deep breath — and breathe out slowly. Perhaps we can check our pulse. Go on that vacation far away or visit a beach and watch the crashing waves. Listen to the seagulls, the breeze, the blue skies. And turn our cell phones off.
But as an ICU nurse who loved this speciality, having COVID patients in the ICU was a war zone.
One ICU room would now …
He was in his ICU bed without movement or brain stem involvement. His weight was down to 90 pounds.
His six-foot frame and skeletal body made me gasp.
After countless sessions with the patient’s daughter to make her 92-year-old dad “comfort care,” the intensivist sadly hung his head down low.
The daughter insisted on doing everything for her daddy.
It was my night shift, and I knew what was to be expected. Another endless …
Today. Finally, a day off.
I could oversleep, roll out of bed, then make a pot of coffee — and prepare for a “do nothing” day.
But today is the day.
After dealing with more electrical problems on this 160,000-mile-plus car, I will say goodbye, turn in the keys, and walk away.
This car holds memories: Taking the kids to the beach. Driving to our last trip to the mountains. My best friend’s Miami …
She was listless in bed with agonal breathing — only 63 years old.
Before stage 4 colon cancer claimed my mother, she chose to come home to her house … her bedroom, where she’d stare out her window at the dogwood trees that symbolized the blood of Jesus.
A once-vibrant Italian Catholic and mother of four, she was the perfect wife of an IBM executive. But it was all for show — …
I have dedicated 35 years of my life as a nurse: in the ICU for 33 years and behavioral health/intensive management for the last two.
I thought it would be time to take a break from ICU nursing. Surely behavioral health would be a lot easier — kind of a slide into my near-future retirement.
I entered into the land of psychotics and schizophrenics, bipolar, homeless, dangerous patients from prison, like those …
Mom wept silently as she stared at her dead daughter — quiet, near catatonic. I was prepared for a sharp scream.
But she sat there quietly. She was staring at her beautiful but lifeless daughter.
Young with long black hair and 21 years old. She was mom’s pride and joy.
The daughter got into yet another fight with her boyfriend. They were both in college dorm apartments. She couldn’t stand the screaming anymore.
As …
Recently, a former NFL football player, Phillip Adams, murdered Dr. Robert Lesslie, his wife, his two grandchildren ages 5 and 9, an air conditioning appliance man, and critically injured a second man. The NFL player had gunned down these innocent people. And then, he left and went to his parent’s house (who lived on the same road), and after hours of the SWAT team begging this man to surrender, he …
At an early age, Tasha remembered looking up to her mama dressed in a crisp white uniform and a nursing cap placed perfectly upon her head — one bobby pin at a time. Tasha learned what sacrifice, responsibility, and dedication were all about.
She also knew her mama’s love for the nursing profession.
When Tasha was four years old, she used to say: “One day, I will be a nurse just like …
Everyone loved Mrs. Maria. She was everyone’s mom, grandma, teacher.
Maria grew up in poverty. Though her family was poor, she knew her parents and siblings loved her and loved each other. But the one thing she knew her passion was at was school. Every morning she couldn’t wait to go to school and learn more. And she knew one day she would be a teacher.
Throughout the years, Maria excelled in …
Her son went to visit her at her house of 52 years. The sound in the bathroom indicated that the faucet in the tub was running and overflowing onto the floor. A series of events piled one on top of the other. A totaled car, candles burning in the house haphazardly, repetitive questions mentioned five minutes apart. The same questions over and over again. Hugging her granddaughter but not remembering …
The emergency department.
A haven for cardiac arrests and gunshot wounds and respiratory distress and overdoses and auto accidents and children’s sniffles and fever and coughs that won’t go away. The ED was easy access to many. And at times, it was an easy fix not to pay the bill upfront or to be anonymous with your problem.
As much as I loved emergency nursing, it was always the children that left …
I was an assistant nurse manager (ANM) in a 24 bed ICU in my younger, energetic years. Before that, I was a manager in a very small emergency department. I must say, I loved it. I loved the thrill and the challenge. I was able to work with the Joint Commission; I ordered EKG monitors and defibrillators, any equipment needed for the emergency department. I worked with the health department …
As I take the pups on their daily walk around the neighborhood. I come upon eight adults outside their houses, near the street, laughing and coughing and sneezing and smoking their cigarettes and huddled up close together.
They didn’t say hello to me, nor did I to them.
But I listened: “I ain’t gettin’ the COVID vaccine, I ain’t going to the hospital. If I get the COVID, I’m staying at home …
I knocked on his door. It was 8:30 pm—medication time.
Jerome slowly opened his door. He was easily over 6 feet tall. Towering over my 4′ 11.5″ self. Naked. Eye to eye with his penis.
He chanted, “You ain’t a bitch. You ain’t a ho … you my wife.”
OK Jerome, take your medicine.
I’ve entered a new dimension of nursing.
After 30 plus years as an ICU nurse, I thought I’d ride out behavioral …
He was a healthy 36-year-old paramedic with a loving wife and an adorable little boy.
Jim loved his job. The rush, the adrenaline, the blaring lights through downtown hurrying to get to the major hospital. Cardiac arrests, gunshot wounds, tragic auto accidents, respiratory arrests, CPR, compressions, starting IVs. Speaking to the ER physician en route to the hospital to give stat meds for V-tach, SVT, delivering a baby. Anything and everything. …
After 33 years as an ICU RN, I had finally decided I couldn’t do this anymore. It was my last nightshift. The last shift convinced me I had made the right decision.
The CNA and I went door to door to turn each ICU patient that was not capable of turning themselves.
ICU-06: Mrs. Thelma was 86 years old. She laid in her bed, slightly restless. Restrained. On a ventilator. NG tube …
I enter the hospital to work again. I must work as I have three small children and a husband presently out of work because of COVID. He is “non-essential.”
A violinist is playing at the employee entrance. I know they do this to lift our spirits. But it’s a slow, sad string that reminds me of the titanic. And yes, every day I clock in, I feel as if it’s a …
I’d like to preface this story by saying that the majority of the intensivists I have worked with have been exceptional, caring, and professional. We had all established a good camaraderie, and we had mutual respect for each other. We worked well together.
But there always seemed to be one that was the exception.
And as I drive some long miles on a recent getaway to the mountains, the flashback came back …
1986. I graduated from LPN to RN. And I was immediately offered a new job. Manager of a six-bed ER.
This hospital had three surgical suites — 50 inpatient beds and 2 L&D suites. This was a private Catholic hospital run by the nuns. The computer system was new and a foreign object.
Sister Ursula* (name changed) of medical records was so overwhelmed by the volume of paper charts that she hid …
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