A bitter pill

Nurse-to-nurse violence.

Sad that we need such a term. I read about it in a magazine. It refers to the way in which we treat one another in my blessed profession. As if it were not enough to get yelled at by the doctors, criticized by the ancillary servicepeople, and be mistrusted by patients and their families, we add to the negativity by chewing on our very equals. I'm not even talking about the phrase, "Nurses eat their young" (for that is a whole other post entirely). I'm talking about the rolling of the eyes as someone asks another question, the talking behind each other's backs about the poor report that was given, or so-and-so's inability to read the telemetry monitor. The impatience for each other's inadequacies and hesitations. The refusal to come alongside and intervene when a more frazzled nurse expresses the need for help. It's a discouraging concept, and one that makes the turnover rate skyrocket on any given floor.

We are in the middle of a huge turnover at work, which is led by experienced nurses who have had enough. It seems they have the sense that it is time to move along, while we newbies stare, wide-eyed with naivete. We have been understaffed, stretched to the limit, and so far, pretty much unheard. We have accomplished more than we ever thought we could with less staff than we ever thought was possible, and for the most part, we pulled together to pull it off. But lately... peoples' patience has worn thin. The grace period is over. We are ALL spent, ALL overworked. We have lost the sensitivity to those around us that used to prick our conscience to respond with a kind word or hand.

I, for one, refuse to succomb.

I will make the extra phone call to a physician at the end of my shift before going home so that my co-worker doesn't have to do it at the beginning of hers.

I will offer to help anyone and everyone in the event that I ever find myself standing around.

I will graciously accept any admission or transfer from anywhere and at any time without checking the board to see who got the last admission and if it is REALLY my turn.

I know that my job will always be difficult, stressful, and fast-paced enough to make it easy to be short with each other. With even a perfect staff-to-patient ratio there will be days when it just aint easy. I will work with people whose instincts I do not trust and whose ethics I question. I will take orders from doctors who call me "Baby" and touch my arm when they speak to me. There will be days when I will wish for my former position as a mental health counselor and would be glad to physically restrain any out-of-control youth for hours on end if only I could leave this job behind.

But I will not, will not, will not, treat my co-workers like the proverbial little sister, talking down to them and overtly losing patience with them, or sidestepping the chance to make their shift easier. I won't do it, not because I think it will make any difference in our current drop in morale, and not because I have discovered that the cure for our ills is mutual positive regard. I won't do it simply because I firmly believe in my heart of hearts that every last person on the planet deserves my respect, if for no other reason, for surviving another day in this brutal place we all call home.

Amen.