My Friday night was spent prioritising your partner’s ECG, bloodwork, and pain management when he rushed in from the beach with chest pain. But this time taken meant I was delayed in helping your mother because she couldn’t have a bowel motion. She was distressed and pale when the ambulance brought her in.
I wanted to be in two places at once, but then your sister came running out to find me because your baby niece in bed two just vomited and, well, she’s been feverish all day. So just when I thought I knew where I was going, I was diverted to help a doctor insert a cannula into her little arm so we could rehydrate her – because babies can deteriorate so quickly.
But I didn’t forget about your mother and managed to grab another nurse to help her into the shower because she’d soiled herself.
Thank God… because your son just came off his skateboard and has a pretty deformed wrist. We had to take the time to get his weight, and measure the correct dose of pain relief before we could settle him. He was petrified because we needed to use nitrous oxide to calm him in order to reset his wrist. Talking him through his fear and distress took nearly seven minutes. Measuring up his little face for the mask and getting another nurse to help supervise meant it took another 15 minutes which, you agree, felt like hours.
Then the police brought in a confused and aggressive patient – clearly in some type of psychosis. He was screaming and nearly toppled over the computer and resuscitation trolley. Security were called and for a moment all the oxygen in the room went to making sure we were all safe. You were frightened and told me so.
Through all of this, don’t forget I have three to four other patients, their family members, or travelling partners, or bosses, or friends who all have questions to be answered or objections, or complaints to be heard and acknowledged.
And they impress they should be answered ‘now’. Yesterday, in fact. And my heart breaks, my cortisol elevates… the pressure I place on myself to be the best that you need is CRUSHING ME. Because I love this job.
Because I get value in my life from being in service to you and my community.
And I keep doing it even when I struggle with my depleted energy and empathy… and my self-judgement at not being EVERYTHING and EVERYWHERE you need in this fearful moment.
So keep that in mind. My Friday night is a lot like my Tuesday afternoon or 4.20am Thursday morning.
I’m looking out for those you love the most, on the day you least expect a tragedy or misfortune.
And I’m the lowest-paid nurse in Australia.
And I’m right down the road from you in this paradise you call home (and I’d like to keep calling MY home, but I can’t afford housing to stay and keep doing this!).
Sing the petition
I’m asking you to take three minutes to sign a petition. I’m asking you to talk to three people about how much you love nurses and why. Support us! We love you dammit! Because you can’t imagine a world where I am not doing all of this – you rely on and expect me to be there.
Petiiton: https://tinyurl.com/mrztf6ys.
For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling. 
