Your MOST Memorable (Good/Bad) COVID Moment | Nurses Week Contest

Linda McDonald · May 4, 2021

I work in an outpatient pain clinic. When assessing the patient we ask if they have had the COVID vaccine or if they are going to get it. I asked this question to a lady (who smelled like smoke). She replied I don’t know what’s in that and I don’t want to put that in my body. My next question was do you smoke? She replied “yes”!

Editorial Team / Admin · May 4, 2021

The past year has been crazy for everyone. Share your most memorable story and you could win a $100 amazon gift card ?.

Kitiger, RN · May 5, 2021

23 hours ago, Linda McDonald said:

I work in an outpatient pain clinic. When assessing the patient we ask if they have had the COVID vaccine or if they are going to get it. I asked this question to a lady (who smelled like smoke). She replied I don’t know what’s in that and I don’t want to put that in my body. My next question was do you smoke? She replied “yes”!

Exactly.

And they just don't see it.

JBMmom, MSN, NP · May 5, 2021

Settle in, this one is burned in my brain. He was a relatively young man in his early 40s. Mildly elevated blood sugars and maybe hypertension, didn't get regular checkups, but he was very tall and weighed over 400 pounds. Soft spoken and appreciative, he came to critical care on 3 liters of oxygen, was one of our first COVID patients admitted in March 2020. He spoke so glowingly of his wife and infant at home. He had been trying to quarantine away from them in the house because he was exposed at work. Over the next couple days he needed more oxygen and we hit the magic 5 liters. That was the intubation mark. He was scared, but we thought it was the only way. I wonder now whether that was right, have wondered that many times over the past year, but it's what was being done everywhere, according to the information we had.

Fast forward 10 days and I have him on the vent. We can't prone him anymore, he can't even tolerate full turns without desatting into the 80s. I've had him the last few nights, I spoke with his wife to learn about him, so we're listening to Marvin Gaye and the like on Youtube when I'm in the room. I talk about his wife and baby. We're only supposed to go in every few hours, I'm spoken to numerous times for breaking that rule and spending too much time in COVID rooms, but I can't help it. The noise of the hastily fashioned filtration system in our rooms means the music is nearly drowned out by the constant drone of a fan. It's noisy but quiet at the same time. There's not human noise, just machines.

He needs a chest x-ray this morning and we have to boost him up and get the cartridge under him. They get the x-ray and leave the room, I'm moving pillows and straightening up. He dropped into the 70s, as usual, I'm waiting for him to come back around, it often takes him 10 minutes or so. The x-ray was at 5:52 am. This time, though, by a few minutes after 6 his oxygen is down in the 60s. Our RT team works 6-6, so they're still in report on the unit. He's already on 100% on the vent, we've been told we won't bag COVID patients, I'm out of options on my own. Our intensivist is coming on to the unit about 6:30am, but what do I do until then? He's already flat on the bed with the head elevated. I hit my call light and ask the charge nurse to come over. We can't think of anything else immediate I can do, she grabs an RT out of report, he agrees we're out of bedside interventions for me. Maybe a nebulizer treatment? He garbs up and heads in.

The intensivist comes on unit. He calls the wife. She lives only 10 minutes away and she gets permission to come on unit. We think this might be it, he remains a full code at this time. Day shift is starting to filter in and the onlookers join the small crowd that has gathered at my door. This was early days when docs and people in suits were "checking in" on critical care daily, we were kind of a side show. The wife arrives and talks with the MD, we get the word that he's now a DNR. It's a little after 7am. His oxygen has been less than 70% for over an hour, we're down in the 50s now. We've given albuterol and even mucomyst and there was something else we were trying per tube to decrease plugging, but I can't remember now what that was. He was already on an infusion of nimbex, I'm given a bolus dose to see whether it might help. He's heavily sedated, the COVID patients seemed to eat up sedation, and for just a minute I worry that he might feel like he's drowning. His lungs certainly sound like it.

For the first time in my career, I start to cry. The wife is at the glass doors with her hand on the glass. I put my gloved hand up across from hers and say "I'm so sorry". She says "Thank you so much for taking such good care of him. Please tell him I love him." She tells the staff members on the unit she can't wait around and watch, so she goes home. The RT doesn't have anything else to do, so he heads out. It's just me. I tell him his wife loves him, his baby loves him. I hold his hand. I watch the monitor, I say some prayers with him (his wife had mentioned the were practicing Christians), I think there was even a song or two that came on Youtube that I could sing the lyrics. It took a while, I told the oncoming nurse I wouldn't be leaving the room, he didn't need to take report. We sat there together and the patient died at 8:08am. I had turned off the fan/filter apparatus earlier so he could hear the music (I didn't believe they were doing anything anyway), now I turned off the monitor and the ventilator and the room was truly quiet for the first time in weeks. I sat there another couple minutes to collect myself. I was pretty sure that my snot and tears had completely compromised the integrity of the N95, I figured maybe I'd get some time off if I came down with it later in the week.

I never did get it. I had more patients die. I facetimed family members so others could say goodbye before we intubated. I try not to think about the number of people that had their last conversation on earth with me. Not a beloved family member, but a nurse in full safety gear, just a pair of eyes behind some goggles. The smile of reassurance not even visible to help them relax. And the family members at home, unable to see their loved ones, not knowing that we have done everything we can to save them. But he was first, and that one's always the hardest. I hope he rests in peace.

toomuchbaloney · May 5, 2021

@JBMmom

That broke my heart. PTSD intervention is going to be in high demand. Grief and trauma are cumulative.

Chronic Care Coordinator · May 5, 2021

11 hours ago, JBMmom said:

I never did get it. I had more patients die. I facetimed family members so others could say goodbye before we intubated. I try not to think about the number of people that had their last conversation on earth with me. Not a beloved family member, but a nurse in full safety gear, just a pair of eyes behind some goggles. The smile of reassurance not even visible to help them relax. And the family members at home, unable to see their loved ones, not knowing that we have done everything we can to save them. But he was first, and that one's always the hardest. I hope he rests in peace.

Crying! PTSD in full form here!

Brings me back to March /April 2020 @a covid unit at work.

Now, hearing that family members in my home country died, dying, struggling to breath---! How much more lord!

GIVE US STRENGTH AND GRACE!

MSRM · May 6, 2021

The most memorable experience I had during pandemic is being a patient myself. I thought I would be immune being a health care worker advising my patients all the precautions needed to avoid contracting covid. Then I got struck with COVID myself almost died from sob then being bedbound for almost 3 months. When I come back, I had to apply for disability. What can I say, covid is real!.

Jodicrnfa · May 6, 2021

My most memorable experience with COVID was early in our hospitals COVID pandemic. I sat in a pt's room in the ICU in a neg. pressure room for 12 hours and held his hand, sang to him, cried for him waiting for him to die. His family had requested someone be with him when he died, so I sat and held his hand....he died the shift after I left. I felt completely drained of emotions. He died without someone holding his hand....

ICUNurse88 · May 7, 2021

Mine is not a good story. Most of my stories about covid are not good. It was November 2020. I remember a young female age 29 coming into our unit. She wasn’t our typical covid patient, she was about 28 weeks pregnant. She transferred to ICU from the med surg floor (was admitted less than 12 hrs). Worsening hypoxia, on a high flow NC 60L/90% with a non-rebreather on top. She wouldn’t wear a bipap. She was wheeled in to the room with boyfriend at bedside. We had to quickly come up with a plan in case she decompensated further and needed intubation. Pulmo/intensivist ready, OB ready, NICU ready, me and my colleagues ready. An ABG was drawn, pO2 was high 40s/50s. We needed to intubate. The whole team was ready in case we had to do a crash C-section during intubation. She did OK but our repeat ABG on 100% FiO2 was not much better and there was concern for the baby not getting oxygen. The OB wanted baby out. Quickly we scrambled and set up. ICU took care of mom and L&D had baby. I was pushing meds and titrating drips and they quickly cut mom open. I was so busy with mom I didn’t see baby come out and baby didn’t cry. She was taken immediately to the next room and intubated and taken to NICU. Pitocin was hung and they were working on closing mom up. Once things settled, it was determined that mom had to be transferred to another facility for ECMO. She was cannulated on night shift and taken to a facility in LA. My next shift I went and visited baby. She had been extubated and was doing great! I found out that a month later mom had gotten a trach was on ECMO and CRRT and did not make it. The boyfriend gave up rights and now grandma and aunt are raising baby. A week after this incident, I had taken care of the patient’s father. The whole family had gotten covid and been hospitalized at some point. Now her dad was in ICU intubated on CRRT maxed out on 4 pressors and I was giving bicarb and epi pushes on top of that. I had to stop the CRRT because his BP didn’t tolerated it anymore. His wife and other daughter came in the morning because I knew this was it for him. He coded and I’ll never forget the family screaming and crying through the glass door to please save him! I gave all the meds I could, we did CPR and coded him for 30+ min. It was futile. He passed but now he is in heaven with his daughter and that beautiful baby has two angels watching over her.

LyndseyRN2011, ADN · May 8, 2021

My most memorable COVID moment still tugs at my heart strings to this day. I had taken care of this patient who, fully alert and oriented, had declared to me that she’d rather die than wear the BIPAP again. I explained to her that without it, she very likely would die, but it was her right as a patient to refuse any treatment she did not want. She told me she understood that but that she would not wear it again. She also told me that she felt better and that she was ready to go home. I explained to her that she was on a very high level of oxygen from her vapotherm and if she were to leave, she would likely only live hours. She did not press leaving any further at that point but she told me that her husband was sick and that her family had conveyed to her that he was getting worse. He had not been admitted to the hospital yet at this time. I respectfully conveyed the patient’s wishes to the rest of my team members.

After this, I was off for a few days. When I came back to work, I was assigned the same patient, who had been transitioned to comfort care, as well as her husband who’d been admitted a couple of days before and had also been transitioned to comfort measures. They were two rooms away from each other. I was told that staff had offered to put them in the same room together but the husband refused because he didn’t want his wife to see him like that. This was just before Christmas and my heart was already heavy from the months of death I’d been a witness to. I did my best to keep them both comfortable. I went from room to room giving morphine that morning, trying to give them both the dignity they deserved in their last hours here on Earth.

Just after lunch, another nurse called me to the monitor and told me it wouldn’t be long for the wife. Her QRS complex was widening. We knew the end of her life was imminent. I immediately called the family and let them know that the end of her life was near and if they wished to see her before she passed, they should come now. The hospital where I work has been known to allow special visiting privileges for COVID patients nearing end of life if the visitors are close family, not high risk, and are willing to accept the risk of possibly being exposed. They are also required to wear gown, gloves, and mask. Before I could get off the phone with the family, another nurse stepped over and signaled to me that the husband had just passed. I decided to wait until the family arrived to break this news.

Two family members arrived. As soon as they arrived, I explained to them that the husband had already passed. They wanted to go to him so I dressed them out and opened the sliding glass door to let them in. As I listened to their heartbroken wails through the glass, I stood sentinel by the monitor. I knew my other patient was running out of time and something inside me felt like it was important for her family to see her while she was still alive. When I felt like I could wait no longer, I gently opened the door and urged them to the other room, stating to them that grandma couldn’t hold on much longer. They hurried to her room and stood at the bedside as she took her last breaths. Exactly one hour and one minute after the husband passed, the wife passed also. More tears were shed . . . by the family . . . by me.

I carried them with me in my thoughts for a while after that. I can’t clearly describe all the emotions I felt—maybe some guilt for not being able to do more and worry that the family blamed the healthcare team for the loss of their loved ones, even though I know it was out of our control. Most of all, I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness. It’s not every day that your shift plays out like a Nicholas Sparks novel. Sometimes in my mind, I picture his spirit standing at her bedside, beckoning to her . . . telling her it was time to go home.

A week or so later, the family sent a card thanking us for everything we’d done for them. Inside the card was a picture of them both standing hand in hand, happy and healthy. I will never forget them.

amoLucia · May 9, 2021

Lyndsey - I teared up on this post. TY you for trying so hard as you did. And prayers for that couple as they now RIP.

JBMmom, MSN, NP · May 10, 2021

ICUNurse88 and LyndseyRN2011, thank you both for sharing your stories. So much heartbreak over this past year. Thinking of both of you, and how your care was so important for those patients. Take care.

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