Com'on, you got one...What is your heart wrenching moment?

[CrunchBerries]

Mine was....

I was a very young, too young DON at a care home. I was working late one night doing paperwork. I heard odd noises coming from outside my office. I went out to investigate and I saw Marjean, one of my fav's sitting under a tree rocking back and forth.

I asked what was wrong, she kept rocking telling me she was just gang raped on the pool table of the game room.

Marjean was a hard core, paranoid schizophrenic. It never happened, while we had a game room we had no pool table and, we had cameras in that room. Naw, it didn't happen but SHE totally believed it did, it was one of her hallucinations.

While it did not *really* happen, it did happen in her reality and she was going through the same emotions as a true rape victim would experience.

I finally got it, I finally understood. Hallucination or not, it was still real for her. I just sat with her under the tree rocking back and forth.

We ALL have one or more of those moments, what is yours?

[RookieRoo]

My first code. I was a student. And it was a nine month old twin baby, with his mom screaming and trying to throw herself on him, his dad holding his mom back, and his uncle holding his dad... while everyone worked around him on his teeny tiny body. 45 minutes, silence except the machines, the meds called out, and the mom. screaming.

He didn't make it. Turns out, he had respiratory failure. Turns out, his parents had been fighting for months to get him seen at the children's hospital by a peds pulmonologist. He died on a Sunday, and his appointment with the pulmonologist was the next day on a Monday. Instead, I, as a student, tied his toe tag on and brought him to the morgue.

Sucked then, sucks now, won't ever forget it.

[ixchel]

Several months ago, I had this patient... In report, I was told he'd just gotten there, he'd been laying on a couch for 6-12 months, and only got up to urinate and defecate in a trash can placed by the couch. He was being "cared" for by his wife, who usually only gave him beer. His neck, legs and arms were contracted into the position he was laying on the couch. He was a&o in all ways possible. A smart guy, at that. He'd had a full and exciting life.

The extent of this man's deconditioning was horrifying to witness. He was unkempt, with long, scruffy hair, 12 months of nail and facial hair growth, and generally filthy. He looked like he had been picked up from under a bridge somewhere. His CC was new-onset hallucinations. So while he was essentially stable, he was a mess.

His disfigurement made an impact on me, but honestly, using my nurse brain, it wasn't earth shattering in any way. It was just alarming. It was like something you'd see on some reality show, but that was the extent of it.

On my third day with him, shortly before the end of my shift, I saw a group of people outside his room. Normal people, clean cut, well dressed. I approached them to ask if they needed help finding someone, but as I reached the door, I peeked in and saw a small, elderly woman who was the spitting image of him. She was obviously his mother, and she was just sobbing. She said to me, "what happened to my beautiful boy? Why does he look like this?!"

I hugged her, mom to mom. And suddenly I wasn't a nurse anymore. I was a mom of a beautiful boy, too, and I felt the horror of that moment. Turns out the last time she'd seen him was a few years ago, before any of his deconditioning began. He was clean cut, normal, his mama's boy. I couldn't shake off the terrible pit in my stomach that was making me consider how I'd feel if that were my boy in that bed.

It had been a long, emotional week already. Very heavy patients with very sad stories. But that moment.... That one made me so thankful I was about to be off for a few days. I told my charge nurse I needed a few minutes to collect myself. I couldn't hold the tears back. Even as I'm typing this, I'm feeling them come back. I recognize my boundaries were gone with this patient, especially at that moment.

The good news is this is the first time I've thought about him in a good long time. I seem to not get as emotional about the deaths I've experienced. It's the stuff people live with that seeps into my heart.

[CrunchBerries]

FlyingScot said:

You don't want to hear mine. You really don't. Says the ex-pediatric flight nurse.

Actually, I do.

[CrunchBerries]

ixchel said:

Several months ago, I had this patient... In report, I was told he'd just gotten there, he'd been laying on a couch for 6-12 months, and only got up to urinate and defecate in a trash can placed by the couch. He was being "cared" for by his wife, who usually only gave him beer. His neck, legs and arms were contracted into the position he was laying on the couch. He was a&o in all ways possible. A smart guy, at that. He'd had a full and exciting life.

The extent of this man's deconditioning was horrifying to witness. He was unkempt, with long, scruffy hair, 12 months of nail and facial hair growth, and generally filthy. He looked like he had been picked up from under a bridge somewhere. His CC was new-onset hallucinations. So while he was essentially stable, he was a mess.

His disfigurement made an impact on me, but honestly, using my nurse brain, it wasn't earth shattering in any way. It was just alarming. It was like something you'd see on some reality show, but that was the extent of it.

On my third day with him, shortly before the end of my shift, I saw a group of people outside his room. Normal people, clean cut, well dressed. I approached them to ask if they needed help finding someone, but as I reached the door, I peeked in and saw a small, elderly woman who was the spitting image of him. She was obviously his mother, and she was just sobbing. She said to me, "what happened to my beautiful boy? Why does he look like this?!"

I hugged her, mom to mom. And suddenly I wasn't a nurse anymore. I was a mom of a beautiful boy, too, and I felt the horror of that moment. Turns out the last time she'd seen him was a few years ago, before any of his deconditioning began. He was clean cut, normal, his mama's boy. I couldn't shake off the terrible pit in my stomach that was making me consider how I'd feel if that were my boy in that bed.

It had been a long, emotional week already. Very heavy patients with very sad stories. But that moment.... That one made me so thankful I was about to be off for a few days. I told my charge nurse I needed a few minutes to collect myself. I couldn't hold the tears back. Even as I'm typing this, I'm feeling them come back. I recognize my boundaries were gone with this patient, especially at that moment.

The good news is this is the first time I've thought about him in a good long time. I seem to not get as emotional about the deaths I've experienced. It's the stuff people live with that seeps into my heart.

Some people believe in reincarnation, others do not. Me? I don't much care either way. What I *do* know is that as nurses we live 1000 lives just in one. We seem to live vicariously through those of others. I don't feel reincarnation is necessary for us. It is something we already live.

[~PedsRN~, BSN, RN]

Luckyyou said:

The dad of one of my long-term patients screaming at me during one of multiple codes the night he died, "Why won't you save my baby?!"

? I have been there with that dad. It's a horrible feeling isn't it. ((HUGS))

[rnsrgr8t]

I was working nights on my summer break during nursing school on the peds floor at the local hospital. I was all of 19 and an eager nurse extern. I worked with some amazing nurses who really mentored me. We had a little girl with end stage cancer. She was comfort measures only, on a cooling blanket and on lots of IV pain meds. That night, her nurse (I still remember her face/name) pulled me aside and told me this sweet little girl was probably not going to make it through the night. I told her I still wanted to do my care, take her vitals etc. we all loved this little girl and her mother and I had helped with her a lot that summer. I walked in the room at 2 am with my little penlight in my hand. The room was dark and mom was asleep on a cot next to the hospital bed. I put my stethoscope to her chest and heard......nothing. My heart started pounding so loud I could hear it in my ears. I tried to feel for a radial pulse and felt....nothing. I realized she had left us peacefully in the last hour from when I had last been in the room. I quietly went out of the room and got her nurse. We both went back in quietly and she listened to her for a second and then nodded at me. She whispered at me that we had to wake Mom up and tell her and did I want to do it. I nodded my head and walked over, knelt in front of Mom in the dark and gently woke her up. When she sat up, I gave her a second to wake up and put my arm around her and said, "she's gone to heaven Momma". She nodded and hugged me and got in bed and held her daughter. The nurse I was working with went out and called Dad. Later when we were preparing her for the funeral home to come get her, her Mom and I and the nurse I worked with all kept commenting how beautiful she looked. She truly did. She was finally at peace and not suffering and she looked like an angel, even her Mom said so.

That was my first patient death. Looking back 20 years later, I realized it is what solidified my desire to do peds. I have for my whole career. I look back now and cannot believe that nurse let a 19 year old nurse extern have such a role in her care but I am glad she did. I am amazed she trusted me that much. I learned a lot that night. I have always been grateful my first death was a peaceful one. I do not remember that child's name but I can still see her face very clearly. Her mother hugged me so tight that night and I only hope I helped ease her pain a little (as much as my greenness would allow).

[nlitened]

When I was working as a monitor tech I had a patient code...they worked on him for close to an hour. Just as the doctor called the time of death, the man's son (who was just fresh off a flight from Iraq and still in his uniform) was stepping off the elevator. The soldier saw the doctor walking out of his father's room with his head hanging down and he immediately dropped down to his knees and started sobbing. The doctor came to his side and just held him.

The whole floor was in tears, watching this soldier sobbing in the middle of the hallway. I'm getting teary eyed typing this. It is something I know I will never forget.

[AnthonyD]

Working the ICU about 2 years ago, I was taking care of a young CF patient, I'll call her Jennifer (not her real name). She was fun to talk to, witty, and smart - all around great personality and sense of humor. She had a long history of CF "tune-ups" in our hospital and was well known on the medical floor, but not in the ICU. I was her nurse for several overnight shifts in a row, which included both a holiday and her birthday. Needless to say, I got to know both her and her family pretty well. On the holiday, I let her family sneak in food and extra visitors to celebrate in her room. On her birthday, I left my shift in the morning, and said "Aren't you glad you get to spend your birthday with us?!" and her Mom replied, "That's such a 'you' thing to say!" We had built a rapport.

Jennifer, while battling CF, had recently graduated nursing school, and she wanted to learn about everything we were doing. She asked questions, watched and learned everything, as she'd never seen the ICU. I joked that we do allow nurses to shadow here, perhaps being a patient wasn't the best way to see the ICU.

She had also recently lived her life-long dream of nursing abroad in a third world country. She couldn't stop talking about it, whenever she could stay off of the bipap long enough without getting too short of breath to speak. Her family was so proud that she was able to accomplish her true dream in life. But in doing so, she had compromised her health significantly. She had contracted both viral and bacterial pneumonia while overseas.

I was off for one night, and when I came back the following night, she wasn't doing so well. I wasn't her nurse, but I kept checking in. She was worn out, completely, and her family could see it. The pneumonia and sepsis had overtaken her. It was time to make the choice of what to do next, This extremely brave 20ish year old girl made a decision that no one that age should ever have to make. She asked everyone to leave the room except for her mom and dad, and she told them. "I'm ready to go."

She had lived a short but full life, and she had fulfilled her dream of nursing halfway around the world for others in need.

Everything was stopped except comfort measures, and with her family at her side she passed away quietly.

That was the hardest shift of my career so far. I'm actually glad I wasn't her nurse that night, because I wouldn't have been able to handle it.

[Farawyn]

heron said:

A 26 year old man with end stage AIDS whose dementia had progressed to the point of requiring a posey vest. One night on a routine safety check, I found him tangled in the vest. While I untangling him, he grabbed my hand and climbed hand over hand up my arm, then his head wobbled back and he looked me in the eye and said, "I want my life back." All I could do was to look back, say "I'm so sorry" and hold him until his mind wandered off again.

This knocked the breath out of me.

[Cheyenne RN,BSHS]

My heart moment came innocently enough. It involved a lovely young mother, barely 21 or 22. Susanne(not her real name) had colon cancer that she had been fighting since she was 16. There weren't any real protocols for colon cancer for anyone that young back in the 1980s. Heplocks were still a new thing. She had been in remission doing great when she got pregnant with child number 2. She refused to have an abortion but it was so risky for her.

To understand how vested my heart was in this case and how I identified WITH Susanne, to her mother losing her only child, to feeling my heart ache for Suanne passing away and leaving 2 little ones. The reason I went into nursing was to make a difference and stand up and advocate for my patients after my son died in my arms when he was about to turn 5. He would have started kindergarten that year. My daughter was only a few months old and my husband had left me. I was suddenly a single mother of a little baby and the grieving mother having buried my son.

I started nursing school 3 weeks later and my clinical rotations were all in the same hospital he had died in. Somehow I made it through and went there to work. I didn't want to work peds or the nursery. I could not deal with sick babys or losing a newborn so I worked adult med/surg. It was a perfect fit.

Until Susanne. Having the baby brought the cancer back with a vengeance. When she was getting near the end we snuck her baby and toddler up to see her. We had to because she was begging to see them one last time. One night after I had clocked out we snuck the kids up. I held onto her mother's hand after she brought them to the room. Susanne was sleeping most of the time, too weak to do anything. And the toddler crawls right up in the bed and starts patting her cheek saying mommy wake up. Wake up mommy. I love you.”

All of us adult nurses and assistants were crying. Her mom had her head buried into my shoulder. It ripped my heart out. Susanne didn't make it through the night. It seems like only yesterday, not 30 years ago.

[cardiacfreak, ADN]

I don't cry very often, but these precious memories have tears streaming down my face.

[USA987, MSN, RN, NP]

Working in the OR and was on call. Answered the phone at 2am to here the nursing supervisor say "hurry. He is bleeding out". Rush in. 17 yr old GSW to the chest. I will never forget his mom...draped over his body as I was pulling the cart out of the room to take him to the OR. We were working feverishly and I lost track of how many units we were giving. I all the suddenly looked up at the monitor. Pulse 0...with a rhythm...PEA. I still know the exact time he passed. I cleaned up his body...even under his fingernails. ..and I wrapped him in warm blankets. For some reason I was fixated on not having his mom remember him with blood under his fingernails and cold.