The day I became a nurse

Thinkstock | istockphoto

Very early in my career, I witnessed a horrible tragedy that changed me in so many ways.

I was young and naive, just out of nursing school. I was working in the ICU at Palm Beach Gardens Medical Center in Florida. It was the original unit with only eight beds. There was no open heart surgery or cath lab at the hospital, and Trauma Hawk didn’t exist yet. The ICU sat directly across from the ER and we frequently were asked to assist in severe cases when necessary.

On this day, the experienced nurse decided I should go to the ER, even though I told her I didn’t feel qualified. When I got there, I noticed five people around one stretcher in the corner. I went to the bed and almost passed out: A tiny girl of six in a dirty, bloody dress was lying there. She had long blonde curls and ghostly pale skin.

“What happened?” someone asked.

“Hit by a car,” was the response.

She wasn’t moving. The side of her head and chest appeared crushed, and blood was everywhere.

“What can I do?” I asked.

“Hold the blood and squeeze,” said the ER nurse.

I did and felt my muscles sting, I was squeezing so hard. Try as we might, it was all to no avail. She was dead. I was in shock—I had never seen a dead child. I had only witnessed one death, of an elderly patient, in training.

As I stood there with my mouth so dry I couldn’t speak, the ER doctor said, “Come with me.” We started walking down the hall to the waiting room, toward the family. I thought, Oh no, I’m not the one who should go. I wanted to scream, “Wait, get another nurse!” but I just kept walking. I felt like an imposter.

Two other children, around eight and 10, and a young man, probably in his late 20s, were sitting in chairs in the waiting room. The man was in dirty work clothes and there was a small box on the table by the chairs. The father’s eyes were so pleading and appeared so desperate that I immediately felt the sting of tears in my eyes. The doctor informed him that his daughter was dead.

The father slumped back down in his chair and put his hands over his face and began to sob, the children began to cry and grabbed their father, and I thought, What can I possibly do? I can’t make her come back to life and I cannot take away the pain of his grief.

I put my hand on his shoulder and he grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Can I get you anything?”

“No,” he sobbed. He clutched my hand so hard.

I just stood and cried, holding his hand.

The father began talking about how it happened. In a quivering voice, as if to try to make sense of it or deal with the reality of the last hour, he said, “I picked them up from the sitter because it was my visitation day. I was tired from work and so I decided to take them to Burger King for dinner.” The little girl and her siblings had pleaded for a canary. He felt bad about his recent separation from their mother, so to make up for the turmoil, he decided they could have a bird. They walked, holding hands across the road, to Kmart and picked out a little yellow canary—hence the box on the table. I realized then that the bird was in the box, which kept moving ever so slightly as the bird chirped.

His little girl was so excited and happy about the bird; as they walked back across the road, she clutched the bird box in one hand and his hand in the other. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait and broke her grip, running toward the sidewalk when a car hit her, sending her flying. He blamed himself.

“It was no one’s fault; it was an accident,” I said softly.

Family began to arrive, and his estranged wife came and they embraced. Final arrangements and paperwork were done, and arm in arm, they left with the little chirping box. I remember thinking, How could that little box and bird come out of the tragedy without even the tiniest dent when the little girl was so crushed and broken?

As they left, the father and family thanked me for what I had done. But, I thought, What had I done to be thanked for?

As I was walking back down the hall to ICU, it struck me that I was not an imposter—I was a nurse. Although I had not provided the kind of care the more experienced staff had, I was present and willing to do what I could. I realize in retrospect that I became a nurse that day.

To this day, the memory of that event evokes a physical response in me. I will never forget the little girl, her family or that little chirping box.

Susan Anderson, RN, CCRN, has been a critical care nurse for more than 30 years. She works at Jupiter Medical Center in Jupiter, Fla. This story was written for her clinical ladder requirement and she found writing it very cathartic, since she’s carried this memory with her all of these years.

, , , ,

Scrubs Contributor

We welcome your ideas and submissions to Scrubs Magazine! Here's how to submit your own story or story idea to our editors.

Post a Comment

You must or register to post a comment.

2 Responses to The day I became a nurse

  1. Nursedavid

    It’s a small miracle everyone does not flee given how ill-prepared nsg school leaves them…work with nsg students and I did not think it was possible they could be permitted even less experience than when I was in school but they are. Mandatory half-hour breaks after 2 hours on the unit, 1.5 hour lunch and can’t give a multivitamin without being ‘checked-off’ on ‘pill dispensing technique’.

  2. cathywindham

    I’ve been a R.N for 39 years. Many years I have worked in Critical Care, the ED and PACU as well as in administration.
    The question about the day I became a nurse is very multifaceted.
    As.a teen I did volunteer work at the Army hospital in Germany where my father was stationed. I remember seeing an operation and thinking it was pretty interesting. But, that was not the day I decided.
    My father coached me on a career decision after high school. He suggested nursing as I had volunteer experience and enjoyed math and science especially biology. Yes, that is what I wanted, but that is not when I was convinced to become a nurse.
    Working at night in a small hospital, I had my first on the the job training in the coronary care unit. I was scared of the monitoring equipment and the sudden change in the quiet atmosphere when someone went into Ventricular Fibrillation and we would have to shock them and run a code with the doctor on the phone giving us orders! No, that is not when it struck me.
    I was a young mom with a husband in the military who was often deployed. I worked at night and on weekends and holidays to help my family. I remember many days being so tired from lack of sleep as I would pick my girls up from school and drive them to gymnastics. We’d come home have supper do homework and get them to bed. When my husband was gone, they spent the night at the neighbors home for me to see them off to school when I got home in the morning. Those were hard times, but I wouldn’t have changed them for the world. Shifts were long and hard. I along with my peers at work got the job done running all night. I was a nurse among a team. It was a great job, I learned something new all the time. The challenges of taking care of a fresh open heart patient to the unstable DIC or trauma patient or the balloon pump or doing dialysis. I knew I was a nurse but it felt like it was something I morphed into. I’m not sure when it specifically happened.
    Many years later I was given an opportunity to become a director in the PACU. After five years , I knew that wasn’t my cup of tea and that I missed direct patient care. I enjoyed meeting people, comforting their fears and pain and teaching. It was very fulfilling.
    Four years ago my husband was diagnosed with Stage IV Nasopharangeal cancer. I felt as though my world would come crashing down around me.
    I realized in that moment I not only was his wife but that God had given me all the experience I would need to help him through chemotherapy,
    radiation and surgery and many life threatening events as a result.
    I my not have known exactly when I became a nurse, but it happened and I’m ready!

    Cathy Windham Rn
    Jacksonville, Fl