Through the Eyes of An ICU Nurse

As nurses we all struggle, when it comes to death, and the support of families, does it effect you? How do you cope? It seems as a general consensus we are suppose to be strong for our patients, but we are humans too, and sometimes we cry; - even in private if we have to. This is an article on how my patients have affected me; this is a few examples of some shifts I've worked. This is what it's like to be an ICU nurse every shift. Nurses Announcements Archive Article

Everyone copes with things differently, but often times I write to help me cope with the difficult woes of my job. I often don't share, but this time I thought, why not let some of you guys have some insight into the life of an ICU nurse?

If it wasn't for the outpouring of love and emotional support from my coworkers, I often don't think that I could do it, and I think as a team they are incredible and mean so much to me and have taught me so much, so thank you.

10/8/16

You'll never know how much you affect me. You'll never know that I had to step out to get some air and call my own mother, just hear her voice, and be thankful that I still have her in my life. You'll never know that I went home and cried my eyes out in my shower thinking about the struggle and loss your family is going through.

I bring you water and tissues, you thank me.... it's the least I can do. I stand by you and hold your hand, and hug you as you sob. Your selfless decision to let your mother go peacefully is the most beautiful and difficult decision you could've ever made...I wish you could believe and understand how incredible and courageous that act of love looks like from the outside, even though you're broken and shattered on the inside. You stand by her side as we turn off life support. She was loved.

You'll never know how much that sad look in your eyes and the glisten I notice on the verge of tears, eats me up inside. You offer me food, with a cracking voice, because you're incredibly selfless and have no appetite. You sit next to your son and read him a story knowing this may be the last time. You beat yourself for not being there, blame yourself for his disorder. I tell you it wasn't your fault, it's genetic, as you look away from me with tears in your eyes. You ask if he will ever be able to breathe again on his own, I wish could tell you yes, but his muscles are deteriorating and his disease is unforgiving and undeserved. You hold his hand wishing for these final moments to last forever, you try to cherish them.

8/16/16

Your youngest daughter was rolled onto our unit unresponsive. She was pronounced brain dead by the attending; you fall to the floor, a blubbering mess, demanding to have the test redone because you swear you saw her eye move; it didn't. I help you off the floor as you are bawling into the blanket that she used to sleep with every night.

I am left there by the attending to pick up the pieces of families' and friends' broken hearts.

You have a large family, I keep explaining what just happened to each person that re-enters and asks questions. They are all so thankful for the honesty, even though it's the last thing anyone wants to hear. You so desperately want to understand why she is dead if her body is still functioning on life support. I re-explain, but you can't comprehend, you keep asking yourself why? Each time a little piece of my heart is with you, I wish desperately that she could just wake up and be your baby girl again; but she can't, she never will be. I watch you as you stroke her head gentle as tears roll down your cheeks; "just one more day," you wish you could talk to her just one more time. You yell at her to "Wake up! Please, please wake up", you beg and plead. I give you your space, you need these final moments with your daughter.

I secretly cry in the bathroom for you. I am there for you, I support you, and my heart hurts for you.

I will never forget you.

You'll never know how much you affect me.

You'll never know how privileged I feel to be your ICU nurse.

So true. I have had to go and hide several times just to cry. Being an ICU nurse is mentally hard. I wouldn't change my profession for anything though, love what I do.

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in ICU.

there will always be someone who will want to do the job. I myself am retiring from ICU. No longer will I deal with the stress of ICU.

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in Cardiothoracic, Peds CVICU.

Not an ICU nurse but have encountered these types of situations on my floor. It's hard but wouldn't give up what I do for the world

Up Vote Up Vote ×
Specializes in Trauma ICU, Neuro ICU, Surgical ICU, ED.

Anyone who has spent any considerable time in the ICU knows the pain, and struggle, of losing patients that you have just described. Sometimes I cope surprisingly well with patient deaths, but other times, the aftermath leaves me emotionally torn. There are some situations and families that I will never forget, because they affected me so deeply.

I distinctly remember the 21 year old brain dead self-inflicted GSW to the head who was being taken to OR for organ procurement on Christmas Eve. His mother climbed into the bed as I pushed it down the hall. She held her son, and sobbed, until we reached the red line of the OR, and she could accompany him no further.

I also will never forget the burn patients I have seen. Both children and adults, screaming in pain with flesh blackened by the ravages of fire. Nor will I forget the reaction of their families as they see them for the first time.

Finally, I will always recall the mother who begged me to continue coding her 23 year old son because, "he's never been saved, and I don't know if he had enough time to pray during the car crash, and I don't want him to go to hell." The defeat and emotional destruction in her face after he died was heartbreaking.

Up Vote Up Vote ×