The Traumatized Nurse

Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay

I didn’t see it coming. Walking in his room the first thing I noticed was how poorly his IV was secured to his arm. I instinctively went to fix it. It caught me by surprise when he hurled his cup of ice water at me with a string of curses. He was a big man and his hand swung back like it was ready to follow with a direct hit. I dodged both and ran out of the room. I don’t remember his story. I don’t remember exactly what I did next.  Did I call security? I do remember sitting at the desk watching my hands shake and feeling my heart pound as adrenaline dissipated. I do remember feeling vulnerable.

95% of healthcare workers have been verbally or physically assaulted.

There were two harrowing accounts recently of assault on nurses. One was held hostage and raped by a patient who was an inmate from the jail. The other was stabbed while triaging a patient in the ER. While both were terrible in their own right, the second has been on my mind as I spend a considerable amount of my time as a triage nurse in the ER- mere feet away from people that are unstable at best, at times outright dangerous.  Recently I was with a man, rambling and sweating, moving impulsively and randomly trying to drink out of the sink, sloshing water everywhere.  The male tech I was working with took his vital signs and left the room sliding the door shut with a thud. I looked at this paranoid man with his darting eyes and thought, this isn’t really that safe.

Vulnerable.

A friend from nursing school recently confessed to me that she quit. A teenager had died, possibly gang violence. His family was distraught. They became unruly. The security guard got her to come talk to them as the charge nurse. A family member punched her in the face. She walked out of that ER and she never walked back in. I think back on sitting in nursing school with our ideals and our bright eyes learning about ‘therapeutic communication’. Well, that class didn’t prepare us for assault.

Studies show the rates of PTSD in critical care staff is similar to that found in combat veterans.

Fucking bitch. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been called a fucking bitch. Falling on the ears of the naive Christian girl that never cursed so often that the shock quickly wore off. Every female I work with could say the same thing. Kicked at, scratched at, spit at, cursed at, lunged at. How thick can your skin get before it cracks? Or hardens into a kind of emotional scleroderma? I’ve had the failure of the American healthcare system placed squarely onto my shoulders by a red faced shouting man, who considering his vigor could probably have marched himself out the door to a date with his primary care doc. Studies have shown that when nurses are treated rudely by family members they perform worse. I believe every word of that.  Want your nurse to miss your IV? Be super intimidating and warn them that they better get it “the first time“.

It wears us down. Just as disrespect and contempt in any and all settings wears people down. But then there are the thankful few.  Those rare shining lights that help you remember what you got into it all for. So the next time you’re in the hospital, be polite. It can be overwhelming and scary, but we’re are on your side. And if you’re nice we will go all the extra miles for you. And if we are short or distant or robotic… just remember that we’re probably part of the 95%.



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