I think I just need to write. I am freaking out. As a new nurse, I expected to have to deal with death. And especially with the population I'm working with, who are mostly cancer patients in crisis. I chose this job because my grandmother, my angel, was once one of those patients--and on the very same unit where I decided to begin my nursing career.
I've been there 3 weeks and witnessed or heard about like 6 deaths already, which is to be expected. The first one I witnessed. She was my patient but I had just come on shift when she died. A caregiver was in the room with her. She had no family. I almost cried that night, but I didn't. I didn't linger on the subject too much after that either. Then I admitted a man with brain mets who was really anxious and in so much pain. I met his wife and daughter, who were grieving, and again I almost cried. I did cry when I left him that morning, and he had just died when I arrived the next night. I though a lot about him that night and the following day. I had trouble sleeping that day. I kept thinking about his family, and about the interactions between us after his family left the hospital the night he was admitted. I can remember word for word most of the things he said to me that night. I still feel sad for them, but I'm not thinking as much about it now. There have been other deaths that didn't really affect me so deeply.
But this morning I witnessed a terrible death. A really bad death. Woman dying of lung CA, unable to breathe, gurgling with each inhalation and exhalation for hours--anxious and trying to sob, but not really having the energy to do so. Her room was full of family, and they were all grieving. I was there when she died, and it was not a peaceful death. I was relieved when the end came, and then spooked to provide post-mortem care, but I did it. I didn't cry or anything like that, even after I left this morning, but I just keep thinking of her. I can see and hear and even smell the experience. I can't sleep. I just keep seeing her face in the horrific grimace and the anxiety just under the surface that she didn't have energy to properly display. The morphine we were giving her every 15 minutes didn't really work, but I think in the end she died more quickly because of it. It almost felt like euthanasia, to be honest, but we were following the orders. What could we have done differently? The sound was incredible, and I'll never forget it. It never seemed to phase the other nurses, but I guess to them it didn't seem to phase me either.
How in the world do nurses get over seeing such awful deaths? I'm freaking out. I've had a panic attack this morning. I just wish I could wash it out of my memory. Does anyone have any advice for me?
