As nurses, we wield so much power. The power to heal, lift up, strengthen and inspire.
To me, nursing means being a community nurse. To be a community nurse is to be a guest in your clients’ homes – and in their lives. When you enter the living spaces of others, you enter the place they hope to go for refuge, peace and recovery.
To me nursing is an adventure. Shortly after I started my career in obstetrics in Montréal, my husband joined the Canadian Armed Forces.
I remember my aunt once telling me: “Nursing isn’t just sitting at the bedside holding someone’s hand.” She said it mockingly, as if I didn’t have what it took to be a nurse.
As the sun set on a stifling Port-au-Prince day in August 2021, a U.S. Coast Guard helicopter landed beside two others on the tarmac at the airport in the Haitian capital.
Before COVID-19, most people had a severely limited and incorrect perspective of the role nurses play in our health-care system. I too was misinformed before I entered nursing school five years ago.
I had been a registered nurse for 10 years and was working in the emergency department of a 250-bed community hospital in Ohio on Christmas Eve.
Draw up 100 mg of Propofol and 50 mg of Rocuronium. That’s a size 7.5 ETT, secured at 22 cm at the lips with a PEEP of 10 on 100 per cent.
Right now, I’m scared. I’m a nurse and my job is to face the beast the rest of the world is hiding from. Tensions are high and I adopt the anxieties of others.
I always dreamed of nursing in a fast-paced ICU, but had not thought about the deaths I would encounter in my role. No one warns you about them, or how traumatic they can be.