People banged pots and lids and cheered and whistled. They bought the nurses sandwiches and pizza and Starbucks gift cards and called them heroes. For many nurses, “hero” never sat well. They’re not heroes, or angels. Nursing is an art and a science. They chose it, and they did what they were trained to do: They went to work. They scrambled for masks and gowns and linens and IV tubing. They watched people die from a virus we didn’t understand, put breathing tubes down people’s throats to keep them alive, performed unprotected CPR when there was no time to fully gown up. The sick people kept coming, nurses became infected and it seemed the surges would never end: A brief reprieve, and then right back at it again. “We’re burning out,” the nurses warned. Is anyone listening?
Now, instead of adoration, it’s anger, abuse and incivility as wait times climb and tempers fray. The dam is breaking. It’s a constant run. Nurses are missing breaks and leaving late, sometimes pulling 14- or 16-hour shifts, forced into overtime because someone hasn’t shown up. The focus is on flow, stabilizing the patient and pulling them through the system as quickly as possible. If someone dies after a trauma or tragic event, maybe stop to debrief, but there’s usually no time. “This is what happened. Anything else? Do we need to do anything better next time? No? Ok. Time for the next patient.” Move, go. They’re not heroes, they’re human, and they’re exhausted, the nurses cry. Is anyone listening?
