Nine years. Nearly nine years since I walked across that stage, gathered my pin, and entered the world of nursing. A long sought dream of mine, the end of a journey pursuing the degree, but just the beginning of the journey ahead. I’m not sure you could ever be prepared for life as a nurse, but as a professor once explained it: “Nursing school is like daycare, you learn how to get dirty and how to be safe.” Let me tell you, in nursing, safety is always a top priority, but it’s dirty. Physically, emotionally, politically, everything about working in healthcare requires you to dig deep. After eight years, I can confidently say that being a nurse has been one of my hardest challenges and biggest blessings, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
As a nurse, I have seen families and children from all walks of life. I have seen the poor, the rich, the only child, one of many. I have watched patients soar through treatment and send them off with a celebratory bubble parade full of smiles and tears. I have watched parents cry over their newborn whom was just diagnosed with cancer, and far too many parents hold their child after he or she has passed. I have done what we are trained to do as a nurse, sure, hang the medications, clean the bedpans, change the linens- the dirty work. But I have also embraced so many parents while tears flow, and talked about the life they once imagined that was stripped away from them. I have shared hope beyond all reasonable doubt of a cure, and when cure was not attainable, I have bathed their child’s body once last time with love, dignity and respect. I have created space to hold their deep grief and tears, saving my own for car rides home to found solace in quiet nights alone at home. This part isn’t dirty, it’s tragic, but beautiful. It’s the most pure and sacred form of love, grace and grief; it’s the biggest gift I have been given to be let in on these sacred moments of deep pain and love.
Just a nurse. You hear it all the time. While yes, the phrase has not been used as frequently as it may once have, particularly after a pandemic that highlighted the importance of nursing, we still are one the worker bees within the hospital. Alongside our pharmacy techs, our environmental services personnel, our cafeteria staff and many others, we are some of the many that keep the hospital running. Without us, our patients wouldn’t get the care they do, and yet, hospitals are losing nurses at a staggering degree. For better pay, more respect, better quality of life, some semblance of recognition. It’s the CEOs who make millions while we dig through the dirt. And let me tell you, the politics of the hospitals are dirty.
I’m a nurse, and I wouldn’t have it any other way, but these past years have tested me once again. After coming out of a global pandemic where nurses were praised, on the other side we are once again thrown to the side. While the hospitals boast of the best care and top rankings, the insides are crumbling. Nurses are leaving, and patients are feeling the effects. I can’t tell you how many patients and families have brought this up to me, the impact they feel from an influx of travel nurses. The travel nurses whom are gaining praise from our hospital staff, while those of us whom have stayed run ragged trying to keep things afloat. Those of us who want to do this work, but are struggling to hold on.
Because like they said, we are just a nurse. But we never came into it for recognition or praise, rather a deep commitment to provide the best care for those we serve. Because that is what it means to be a nurse, and what brought us into the profession. To provide love and care and comfort, to share tears of joy and sorrow. To create space for all that life brings when we are brought to our knees. And to remember that in these moments, just a nurse is more than enough.