Grow Brave Through Reflection: Moral Distress in PICU (Part I)

Pediatric critical care nursing is a distressing profession on many levels. The innocence and vulnerability of our patients, the emotional needs of their families, the frenetic pace, the immediacy of our actions and the complexity of the care we provide all contribute to our discernment of distress in our workplaces. But perhaps even more difficult to quantify is the impact of moral distress on our coworkers and ourselves. This four-part essay will examine moral distress from the unique perspective of a PICU nurse, identifying stressors, related behaviors and healthy methods of coping. Nurses Announcements Archive Article

There has been a lot written in recent years about moral distress in health care. With the rapid pace of technological change it has become commonplace for patients to survive injuries and illnesses that less than a decade ago would have ended their lives. With this comes an upswing in moral distress experienced by caregivers across the spectrum. Moral distress by definition arises from the inability to act in ways that we believe to be ethical or honorable. But what sets pediatric critical care apart?

Moral distress, according to Andrew Jameton (1984), occurs when "one knows the right thing to do but institutional constraints make it impossible to pursue the right course of action." Corely et al expanded that definition in 2001 to include, "the painful psychological dysequilibrium that results from recognizing the ethically appropriate action, yet not taking it, because of such obstacles as lack of time, supervisory reluctance, an inhibitory medical power structure, institutional policy or legal considerations." ICUs are Ground Zero for moral distress.

Nurses spend more time with patients than any other health care discipline and have a much deeper knowledge of the patient and their understanding of the situation. They also have an intimate knowledge of the relative risks and benefits of a proposed course of treatment. Thus, they're intimately involved in the suffering caused by both the illness and the treatment. BUT... they're not in any position to make decisions about any of it.

Nurses have conflicting roles as employees, as care providers and as advocates. Their roles are collaborative and their input is only one small part that contributes to the care plan for which they become responsible. They also have personal values (moral agency) which may create role strain.

Role strain is created by the sense of having two masters, the organization who pays their salaries and the physicians who direct their work. And in the end, they have little power and even less authority with which to influence the direction of care decisions.

Nurses' levels of power and authority in the health care workplace are not commensurate with their level of responsibility. Our opinions are often discounted because we're "just nurses". Paternalism and authoritarianism in health care are supposed to have diminished, but they are both alive and well. "Physicians get angry, nurses withdraw" is an axiom that represents patterns of reaction to many stressors, and it applies most definitely in this situation.

Some common situations that lead to moral distress:

  • Medically futile and often inhumane treatment- no perceived benefit to the patient, no change in the outcome, the compulsion to preserve life at all costs
  • Disregard for the patient's wishes- family members overriding advanced directives
  • End-of-life issues- aggressive treatment with no thought to suffering or outcome "because we can"
  • Infliction of suffering on patients and families- roller coaster rides with raised expectations and dashed hopes
  • Resource allocation- short staffing, lack of equipment and supplies inhibit provision of good care
  • Quantity over quality- hustling patients through so the next case can be done/patient can be admitted
  • Toxic work environments- unsupportive managers, bullies, lack of collaboration on many levels, incompetent coworkers: undervalued and disrespected employees take their frustrations out on one another

Okay, so what's different about pediatrics? A lot.

Decision makers are parents whose choices are emotional and not always rationally considered. The American Academy of Pediatrics Committee on Bioethics Guidelines for Foregoing Life-Sustaining Treatment indicate that parental authority is not absolute and may be limited by their understanding of their child's best interests. In a conflict of best interests, whose do we consider to carry the most weight? Who are we doing this FOR? Obligations to pediatric patients have been described by some ethicists as based on the harm principle instead: the harm threshold beyond which a parent's decisions may not be supported. Societal pressures are also brought to bear. Kids aren't supposed to die. They're cute and helpless so of course someone must make choices for them.

Congenital anomalies and disorders add a layer of complexity. Instead of that healthy, perfect baby everyone expected, the parents are instead presented with a child whose appearance, health and future are not beautiful or perfect. Pushing the envelope due to guilt, anger, shame and/or denial is not uncommon for these parents. Artificial reproductive technologies compound things even more. There's a tendency for these children to be viewed as expensive possessions that have been obtained through much sacrifice and desperation. "We wanted a child so badly that we mortgaged our house and we're not going home with empty arms!"

Life expectancy is another consideration. Survivors of PICU may well have very long lives with extension of suffering to both the child and the family. Financial and logistical burdens cannot be underestimated for these children and the entire family is affected. Society also takes a hit. Social services are heavily consumed by families with special-needs children, from early intervention all the way through to adulthood and beyond. The principles of distributive justice should not be the sole determinant but cannot be ignored either.

This brings us to the concept of informed consent. One of health care's most significant legal obligations to patients is the provision of all pertinent information, both good and bad, required to reach an informed decision about their health care. There is a tendency in pediatrics to downplay the negative, the risks, while glorifying the benefits. At times there's an element of deception and most often there is a lack of time to adequately process and consider all the information before a decision is demanded. There is little room for dissent. To quote the parent of a youngster who received a heart transplant and subsequently developed post-transplant lymphoproliferative disease after a seemingly arbitrary increase in his immunosuppressive drugs, "I'm sharing our story for one reason only. For all parents out there, if your spidy (sic) senses are tingling... listen to them. Had we known this would have or could have caused cancer we woud have fought harder. Regardless of what any medical professional advises you, remember you know your child best. Learn from our mistake. Fight to be heard."

In pediatrics we care for a very vulnerable population. In our world, the "partial DNR" is fairly common. This is the practice of picking and choosing which interventions will be offered; this varies from physician to physician. The chart may include a number of options or combinations of options, ranging from a chemical code only; CPR but no drugs; CPR and drugs but no intubation; fluids and drugs but no CPR; CPR, drugs and intubation but no defibrillation; CPR for a maximum of x minutes... the permutations are endless.

Neurological plasticity is often offered as a rational for continuing with life-sustaining treatment in the face of neurological devastation. Plasticity, however, comes with no predictability of recovery potential. One neurosurgeon said, "There is ALWAYS something more I can do. But there is a line beyond which I will not go. And that is where the potential benefits are so infinitessimal that I know parents are grasping at straws. They can't see that their child is never going to be the child they knew before this event." Again, children who survive this sort of PICU stay may (will) require life-long, physically and emotionally draining, extensive care from their families who are ill-prepared for the changes to their lifestyle and that of their other children. When considering burden of care, not even ethicists agree where the greatest emphasis should fall.

I offer two opposing views of hope:

"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work. You never give up." (Anne Lamothe)

"Hope in reality is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs the torments of man." (Friedreich Nietsche)

Which of these do YOU believe?

Thanks for blogging about this, as someone who is beginning a nursing program i love coming on Allnurses and reading from ones who came before. The insight & knowledge gets my wheels turning. This article gives me much to think about~Thanks and i will be following the next parts~

There is often moral distress in PEDS as well as NICU. I knew I couldn't do PICU the day I saw a child the same age as my own. I do not know how PICU handles the family dynamics and the traumatic injuries/accidents. I have been on both sides of the NICU as a parent twice. I know our heroic, extreme measures turn into the PICU chronic kids. It starts off with NICU and the neo's not representing the true picture of a case. The only way I could do NICU is knowing that I will never know (as deeply) how these kids turn out. That cute 23.4 wk baby that weighs 420 grams, bil Grade 4, PVL, etc. isn't going to be that easy to manage at 5 years old. And the parents keep thinking their child will be a miracle. I DO NOT enjoy doing extra labs on kids that prob won't make it my whole shift. What difference does it make?

I've been on the parent side of this subject with a child born with multiple anomalies (Trisomy 13). My husband and I could NOT see forcing the child through many surgeries & procedures that would still result in a poor quality of life. It would be selfish. I've seen many children that were put through hell only to result in a child that still couldn't breathe on their own, or even crawl. As a nurse, I have a lot of sympathy for the child but find it hard to have sympathy for the parent.

Unfortunately the capabilities that we have also create choices that there once were not. A mother cannot bear to see her child tormented, but the thought of losing that child forever... well it is basically unbearable.

There are no easy answers and none of us can judge how we would feel unless we are in their shoes. I have a friend whose daughter is severely disabled. To the point where she has nurses most of the time. A vent, a g-tube. In and out of the hospital. Someone said it would be a blessing if she would die. For whom? Her parents love her fiercely. I look at my son and think if it were me would I be able to let go and think of it as a blessing? No. My son. I would throw myself in front of a train for him. Of course I would keep grasping at straws. Life is life, no matter what form.

I can see how it must torment the nurses, to know there is no real hope. But to them it is one child of many. One patient. To the parent it is THEIR child. I am sure letting go takes a long time. Reminds me of a movie line- "the heart dies a slow death".

I love caring for kids, but sick kids? It tears me up. I could not be a PICU nurse.

Specializes in Critical Care; Cardiac; Professional Development.

Late to the party but I just found this and wanted to thank you for writing it. I am a new grad working in ICU Stepdown. My oldest son died in PICU five years ago after being on a vent for two weeks and oscillator for an additional two. We made the agonizing decision to discontinue treatment - he had relapsed AML and had gotten CMV pneumonia about 90 days after allo BMT. He was 11 when diagnosed with AML, 13 when he died.

When I think on these issues I get very conflicted. I HAVE been there and I know the agony the parents are in. I understand the feeling that discontinuing drastic measures feels like giving up on the chance of a miracle. And sadly, it is the one in a billion miracle that makes the evening news. I still feel waves of guilt when I see one. Did I give up too soon? I get very defensive when I see posts like the above referencing putting oneself in the path of a train for their child. It seems to imply that I was not willing to because I accepted he wasn't going to get better. I quietly say that accepting the course we were on was nothing but torture for my child and being willing to take my own lifetime of pain in return for releasing him from his - THAT is putting oneself in the path of the train for your child. I get hit by that train every day. People do not realize that every time someone implies they could never go through that because they love their child too much implies that those of us who reached a point of agonized acceptance and made the difficult choices didn't love our children as much, proven because we consented to stopping treatment.

It was obvious to me for weeks before Joseph died that he was going to die, but would any of the providers actually discuss that with us? No. They were the last ones to "give up"...or perhaps just slow to get the courage to say it to us, even though the discussion was invited by us prior to his ever being put on the vent.

As I gain more experience in the medical world I see clearly there is a definite communication issue where people don't want to hear what they don't want to hear and providers don't want to say what they don't want to hear. It is a twofold problem - both that of the parents being unwilling to give up or unable to live with the guilt of the very thought, let alone the lifetime of guilt that lingers afterward...but also the providers who are unskilled and unprepared to have these discussions and perhaps even a little guilt-ridden themselves. I believe whole-heartedly they want their patients to live and that it is hard on them to be unable to save them. Combine their internal conflict with the desperate eyes of the family, it is no wonder they cannot be completely honest. Training for successful communication in these situations is imperative. Yes, there will always be families who cannot bear to let go. But, like me, there will also be families desperately searching for the truth and permission to accept what they already know in their hearts...that the current actions are not going to work, that what is happening is torture for the child and that perhaps it is time to say goodbye. Those families need absolution and it starts with the medical team.

Specializes in NICU, PICU, PCVICU and peds oncology.

For what it's worth, I think that parents who "would never" truly believe their actions are out of love for their child, but really they're looking at their own needs first. You don't even have to read between the lines to see that. It's a much more loving and compassionate act to say, "No more". I feel your pain, not.done.yet. I think you'll find that as time passes and you gain more experience in PICU as a professional your ifs, buts and maybes will diminish and you'll find peace with the choices you and your spouse made. Until then, know that I admire your courage.

Your comments about communication are spot-on. I see it time and time again... we KNOW the child isn't going to get better, that they're suffering despite our best efforts and that it would be the moral thing to say that we know. The ridiculous hierarchy that dictates nurses do not initiate or engage in these conversations makes it so much worse. I know there are many opportunities to at least get the family thinking about how far they want to go with heroic measures. But we can't take them. That's a shame. I also don't think it's fair, right or moral that "we" leave the decisions purely to the families. I'm eternally grateful that there are some physicians at my hospital who will simply say, "I'm terribly sorry but anything we do now will not save your child and will most likely only cause more pain and suffering, or perhaps hasten his death. As a physician, I'm not prepared to add to your child's suffering. I wish things were different."

Being alive is not the same as living.