I wonder if every nurse feels as much like a sponge as I do. Does every nurse get random flashbacks of that patient two years ago whose hand you held as he took his last breath? Or of how you watched the love of his life, the stoic and statuesque woman by his side, literally collapse like a house of cards onto his frail chest, sobbing for them both to go back to the first time they met? Does every nurse then remember how your mind wandered in that moment to the patient in the adjoining room, who is incessantly ringing her call bell because you forgot to get her that vanilla pudding you promised her 30 minutes ago? Does every nurse get into their car at the completion of that shift, turn their ignition on, pause and exhale for the first time that day? Am I the only one who is a weeping sponge?
I left my second-degree nursing program a freshly packaged sponge, ready to absorb all of the knowledge a career in nursing had to offer me. I was neat and tidy and dirt-free. Literally the underside of my new fancy clogs had never touched the surface of a hospital floor. As I walked through my first year as a nurse, my shoes got a little dirtier and I became a little more saturated with emotion. I cried ALOT. I had never seen someone die before, let alone be the one administering that last dose of morphine. I never before had to watch the dreams of a teenage boy be ripped right out of his hands because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A gunshot wound to his abdomen would obstruct him from playing college football and he would lose that full ride to the prestigious university. He tells his crying mom that "everything will be okay" and only when she leaves the room does he break down in front of me. How much emotion can one sponge absorb? Who will wring us out?
I began my most recent nursing position as a system wide float nurse with a new vigor and a new promise to myself-to no longer be a sponge. Oh how naive I was. I was approximately two seconds into this new position before I flung myself back into the treacherous, emotional waters of healthcare. I can't help myself-I'm an empath. What I've learned over the years is that self-awareness is key and this requires self-reflection. Think back on your best and worst days in your career. What worked and what didn't? Jot those things down. Reflect on what is most important to you in your work life. What are your non-negotiables? Two of mine are work culture and my own mental and emotional health. I know I need a break from the bedside and my chapter in bedside nursing may be shorter than some others. Guess what? That's okay!
We cannot help the people around us if we ourselves are bleeding out. Take care of yourself physically, mentally and emotionally. One of the first people I reached out to when I knew my emotional wellbeing was at stake was my current manager. He is a tremendous listener and support system-I knew he'd have my back. For me, this chapter hasn't all been bleak. I've met some fantastic people whose stories have inspired me, and they've helped to wring me out along the way. We the nurses, the sponges of healthcare, go from room to room tidying up life's little messes. We absorb. I am a weeping sponge and it is time for me to wring myself out. Don't be afraid to recognize if it is your time, too.
I wonder if every nurse feels as much like a sponge as I do. Does every nurse get random flashbacks of that patient two years ago whose hand you held as he took his last breath? Or of how you watched the love of his life, the stoic and statuesque woman by his side, literally collapse like a house of cards onto his frail chest, sobbing for them both to go back to the first time they met? Does every nurse then remember how your mind wandered in that moment to the patient in the adjoining room, who is incessantly ringing her call bell because you forgot to get her that vanilla pudding you promised her 30 minutes ago? Does every nurse get into their car at the completion of that shift, turn their ignition on, pause and exhale for the first time that day? Am I the only one who is a weeping sponge?
I left my second-degree nursing program a freshly packaged sponge, ready to absorb all of the knowledge a career in nursing had to offer me. I was neat and tidy and dirt-free. Literally the underside of my new fancy clogs had never touched the surface of a hospital floor. As I walked through my first year as a nurse, my shoes got a little dirtier and I became a little more saturated with emotion. I cried ALOT. I had never seen someone die before, let alone be the one administering that last dose of morphine. I never before had to watch the dreams of a teenage boy be ripped right out of his hands because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. A gunshot wound to his abdomen would obstruct him from playing college football and he would lose that full ride to the prestigious university. He tells his crying mom that "everything will be okay" and only when she leaves the room does he break down in front of me. How much emotion can one sponge absorb? Who will wring us out?
I began my most recent nursing position as a system wide float nurse with a new vigor and a new promise to myself-to no longer be a sponge. Oh how naive I was. I was approximately two seconds into this new position before I flung myself back into the treacherous, emotional waters of healthcare. I can't help myself-I'm an empath. What I've learned over the years is that self-awareness is key and this requires self-reflection. Think back on your best and worst days in your career. What worked and what didn't? Jot those things down. Reflect on what is most important to you in your work life. What are your non-negotiables? Two of mine are work culture and my own mental and emotional health. I know I need a break from the bedside and my chapter in bedside nursing may be shorter than some others. Guess what? That's okay!
We cannot help the people around us if we ourselves are bleeding out. Take care of yourself physically, mentally and emotionally. One of the first people I reached out to when I knew my emotional wellbeing was at stake was my current manager. He is a tremendous listener and support system-I knew he'd have my back. For me, this chapter hasn't all been bleak. I've met some fantastic people whose stories have inspired me, and they've helped to wring me out along the way. We the nurses, the sponges of healthcare, go from room to room tidying up life's little messes. We absorb. I am a weeping sponge and it is time for me to wring myself out. Don't be afraid to recognize if it is your time, too.