Colorado's wounds might start to heal

Nurses General Nursing

Published

  • Specializes in OB-Gyn/Primary Care/Ambulatory Leadership.

I remember the day vividly. I worked in research at University Hospital, in Aurora. Mine was a weird hybrid job that took me from the floors of L&D/antepartum to the research building on the university campus on a daily basis.

I remember getting dressed that morning, and my husband saying "Hey, you may want to give yourself a little extra time to get in, there's been some sort of shooting a couple miles from your work."

I remember approaching the hospital and seeing a lot more uniformed personnel than usual. At the front door, a security guard stopped me, frisked me, and asked to search my shoulder bag. When he learned I was staff there, he shooed me in with an apology.

Once I got to our research office, I turned on my computer to read about the horror. 12 people dead. Dozens and dozens of others injured. Our hospital was one of the main facilities that was accepting injured survivors. The atmosphere in the halls was very subdued. Everyone appeared in shock.

One of my tasks in my role was to look over the patient roster for all the patients who were currently in L&D, comb through their chart and determine if they are eligible to be approached for any of our research studies. I remember opening one chart, reading her admission H&P, and discovering with horror that she was here, in labor a month premature, because she was at the theater last night. Her husband had been shot and they didn't know if he would live. As I realized the circumstances in which she was here, I quickly closed her chart.

Later that morning, we learned more and more about James Holmes, the suspect. He WORKED HERE?? He went to school, HERE? He was one of our own? That day, our research building was evacuated and put on lockdown. Staff who worked there primarily were sent home. SWAT teams descended upon it.

That afternoon as I left the building, I took Peoria Avenue south, as I always do, to get onto the interstate. On Peoria, two blocks west of the hospital, is a group of unassuming apartment buildings. I remember the surreal view of Peoria Avenue....news vehicles and camera vans lined both sides of the street for blocks. One of the apartment buildings was completely cordoned off. James Holmes lived in that top floor apartment, and he had apparently booby-trapped it. Police were still trying to figure out how to get in. I avoided that street for the next several days when leaving the hospital.

The following weekend, I was on call for the research group. There were only a couple studies we had to go in for on the weekend, but one was an important study in the NICU at Children's Hospital, right next door to University. I remember that Sunday, getting a page on an infant I had to come and assess for eligibility. I called in, spoke to the neonatologist attending regarding the infant's status, and we determined I should come in and talk to the parents. As we were about to hang up, she said "Oh, give yourself some extra time to find parking. President Obama is in town and is at the hospital right now, so you may have some difficulty." That was an understatement. As I circled the hospital, all entrances were blocked by Secret Service vehicles. I had to circle the campus several times before I could find a way in.

Over the next several weeks, things slowly went back to normal on campus. I remember driving by his empty apartment building every day, with the broken window where the SWAT team gained access. It was many months before that window was fixed. And I remember the feeling of sadness wash over me the day, several months later, when I saw the new window and a light on in the apartment. Apparently there was a new tenant. Did that person know the history of that apartment, I wondered? Seeing that light, more than anything, signified to me that the rest of the world had moved on, and I gave a brief thought to the families who were forever destroyed that night.

Yesterday as I stopped in the local convenience store after work, the local news was playing on the TV. And I saw the announcement: Guilty of 24 counts of murder in the First Degree. I gave an internal cheer when I heard that. This morning, my husband read to me an article he saw online regarding that young woman who was in our L&D unit that day, and her husband, who was fighting for his life in the ICU. It was a "where are they now" article, and when my husband mentioned the young woman's name, a rush of memories came back to me.

I am opposed to the death penalty. But I have to say that if he is condemned to death, I won't shed a tear of sadness. It just hits too close to home for those of us in Colorado. I wish peace for the survivors, and the families of the victims. Hopefully, now that this chapter has ended, they may begin to heal a little bit.

Altra, BSN, RN

6,255 Posts

Specializes in Emergency & Trauma/Adult ICU.

Wishing you peace and healing.

abbnurse

376 Posts

Thank you for this, Klone. I am sending you good wishes for peace, and sending hope that the healing may begin.

Specializes in Emergency/Cath Lab.

I wish that he was already 6 feet under rotting after what he did to our state.

+ Add a Comment