I don’t know that anyone signs up to be a nurse to watch people die. I know I didn’t. Nurses want to help others, it’s in our nature. Our first code usually sticks. We dream about it, get caught thinking about what could have gone differently. The way we felt when the report was called in by our fellow paramedics. It’s eerie.
I’ll start with– I was trained by some of the best nurses. When I worked med-surg I can remember distinctly two nurses that took me under their wing. I worked night shift– had never worked night shift before— and I struggled with the sleep schedule. They didn’t eat their young, they “raised” me gently and slowly let me fly solo. When I transferred to the ED, I had the same experience. I worked weekend shift, and I was groomed by the most compassionate nurses a person could have.
The night of my first code was just like any other weekend night, busy. The call came in for an 18-year-old that had been thrown from a vehicle– CPR was in progress. I had never been involved in a real code before; I had only done CPR on mannequins. I was scared.
The patient arrived to the ED- paramedic was performing compressions; report was being told to the nurses and doctor on site. I was in line to do CPR. I remember the patient’s face. The screaming in the hallway. The organized chaos of the passing of epi from one nurse to another. The doctor giving orders. I remember it all. It went on for what felt like hours. And- I remember the doctor finally calling the code. There was nothing else we could do; there was just too much damage done to the young body.
Afterwards, the nurses and doctor had to keep their composure. We all went on to take care of our other patients and had to act as if nothing had just happened. We had to smile and tend to the comings and goings of others that needed us. And that’s exactly what we did. We didn’t have a chance to cry or decompress. We just kept going. I loved working in the ER, but nights like that were the toughest.