Dearest Diary,
Today’s entry is a bit heartbreaking, so brace thine sweet heart.
After the last incident on night shift, quite a few people on the unit joined Team Cat in hating me. Besides a handful of coworkers who, like me, simply come to do work and go home.
I was wobbling in for my night shift. It was my fourth in a row, I was exhausted, and I was barely comprehending the fact that I was alive.
But that night, I came in early.
My favorite nurse, who was giving me report, had messaged me saying she was already tired of the day. LOL. I decided I would come in early, spare her whatever minutes I could, and let her escape.
You know, Diary, people say walls have ears.
And by God, did those hospital walls hear some things.
I was literally just around the corner from my manager’s office when I heard:
“Well, even if I can transfer him, I’ll be left short-staffed. And no one is applying to transfer into this unit.”
I assumed they were talking about me. As far as I know, the other three male staff members on my unit are not going anywhere. They have kids to feed.
Then I heard my manager say over the phone:
“I asked around at the management meeting this morning. The other managers basically told me they wouldn’t wish this unit on any of their staff. Is it really this bad? I accepted the position because it was a promotion. I didn’t realize the previous manager had been trying so hard to get out.”
A tiny part of me actually felt bad for her.
But she was right.
I tried transferring too.
When that did not work, I dragged Adam into my unit.
That did not work either. He ran straight back to his old unit, which I am now grateful for because imagine me leaving and Adam being stranded here all alone.
I did not mean to eavesdrop, but hey, I happened to be walking by. Nobody told her to leave the door open while having private phone calls.
I continued on my way, got report, and started settling into my night-shift routine.
Since the main Cat was apparently alone without her backup singers that night, she brought back that incompetent student of ours as backup.
GURL, whatever.
My hands were already full with the bouquet of patients I had been given. I had two receiving blood transfusions and several post-ops. I started gathering everything I would need so I would not have to run around all night.
Energy-conservation mode: activated.
Before I had even officially—or mentally—clocked in, a woman came marching toward me.
And GURL, she started talking to me like I owed her money.
Diary, some people forget that nurses are trained to notice slight changes in behavior. Sometimes we are already trying to figure you out before you have even clocked our existence.
Apparently, this woman had already given my manager and the day-shift nurse, who taking care of her aunt, hell all day.
I took one step back, leaving enough space between the two of us.
Her: “Are you Ross? You’re taking care of my auntie overnight?”
Me: “Ma’am, I don’t know who your auntie is, and I haven’t even started my shift yet. I kindly ask you to wait with her. When I make my rounds, I’ll come by and address any concerns you have.”
I turned to leave.
She put her hand on my shoulder and tried to turn me back around.
GURL!
I nearly jujitsued that woman to the floor!
I backed up immediately, my internal flare fully ignited.
“Do not ever touch me. I have already explained myself, and I have urgent patients I need to check on before your auntie. Unless she is dying, I am not giving you another second of my time right now.”
And I walked away.
I went straight to my post-ops and the two patients receiving blood transfusions.
GURL, thank the Almighty I did.
One of my post-ops was not looking hot at all.
I walked into the room and was immediately hit with the smell of vomit. The poor soul had thrown up everywhere.
Thankfully, I had a willing CNA who came in and helped me.
While we were cleaning and assessing him, I suddenly heard Cat shouting with the neice of my patient:
“Yes, I know! They’re not like us. We’re so much better than these foreigners.”
My CNA slowly lifted her eyes.
She froze.
“Did that bitch really just say that?”
Mind you, my CNA is local. She also hates the Cats with passion because they previously accused her of falsely documenting something. I do not know the entire history of that beef, but it has been cooking for a while. It worked in my favor for those four nights because she was my CNA.
Without even looking up, I said:
“GURL, let’s just fix this poor soul. I have two people on blood transfusions. Pick your fight with her after we’re done checking our patients, please.”
I finished checking my priority patients and started popping my head into the rest of the rooms and bays.
To be fair, I was getting most of them ready for bed because God knew I wanted to be in mine.
My CNA was glued to my hip that night, telling me I needed to act as her calming agent.
LOL.
GURL, you picked the wrong person to calm you down against these Cats and their minions.
Eventually, we reached the famous auntie.
The second I saw her face, everything clicked.
My CNA and I looked at each other.
“Ohhh,” she said. “Now it makes sense.”
The niece looked confused.
“What makes sense?”
I knew if I stayed in that room any longer than necessary, I would flip. So I ignored everyone else and focused on my patient.
I checked Auntie over, made sure she was comfortable, handed her the call light, and said:
“Listen, I’ll get your meds soon. For now, just rest. You can nap. And if this room gets too loud, you and I both have the right to kick everyone out. Give me a wink if the answer is yes.”
She laughed and told me she was okay.
Now, Diary, before you wonder what exactly made sense, let me take you back four nights.
This same little lady had been in the ER before, but someone had taken her out against medical advice.
Then she was dropped off again.
She was admitted directly to my unit from the ER. They had not even finished everything downstairs. The ER nurse called and told me she was personally bringing the patient upstairs because she wanted to speak to me face-to-face.
ER nurses do not personally come upstairs with patients unless something is going on. Maybe the patient is unstable. Maybe there is an urgent concern. Maybe there is something they specifically need to tell you.
Naturally, I braced myself.
I thought, OMG. Here comes someone who probably belongs in the ICU.
Instead, in came this frail little old lady.
Super cute.
Super funny.
Her injuries could have been caused by repeated falls, but something about the whole situation did not sit right.
The ER nurse pulled me aside.
She was concerned about possible elder neglect.
The niece was apparently responsible for helping care for this fragile woman—and the niece was also the person who had taken her out of the ER the day before.
GURL.
I heard those words and called my CNA right away.
We checked every cubic inch of that woman’s body that night.
I felt terrible because she was so sweet and apologetic, but I kept explaining:
“I’m sorry, but I need to make sure you’re not hurt anywhere else.”
Then I started digging.
I spent nearly an hour going through her old records.
And there it was.
An old note from her doctor’s office mentioning possible neglect.
SIR.
What exactly is “possible” about this neglect?!
This woman lived alone.
She was barely coping.
She had repeated falls.
She apparently just picked herself back up and carried on because nobody was consistently there to help her.
She told me someone checked on her about once a week and bought her food. I still did not know exactly who that person was.
But apparently, that same person had put her in a taxi and sent her to the hospital this time without the niece knowing.
I even did a full neuro and cognitive assessment because I wanted to make damn sure this lady knew what was going on. She was alert, oriented, answering appropriately, and showed no obvious signs of delirium. I documented everything and had the medical team evaluate her decision-making capacity.
Just before I got her ready for bed, while I was dressing her wounds, we talked.
I was in investigation mode.
She told me:
“Ah, she’s a good girl. She just doesn’t always know what’s good for her. The person who comes to help me brought me in tonight. She said this was our chance while my niece was away because my arm needed to be checked again, and she felt bad for me.”
I had also called the ortho bros to figure out what had happened with an injury they had seen her for the previous month.
One of them told me that once they discussed managing her injury without surgery, the niece took her away almost immediately.
Diary.
Even YOU do not have a nursing degree, and I am sure you could look at all of this and think:
Hmm. Something is not right here.
I handed everything off to the day-shift nurse the following morning and made it clear that this needed to be followed up.
We cannot see signs of possible elder neglect and just shrug our shoulders.
When I came back for my second night, my favorite nurse told me the niece was out of town and would return in two days. She had been trying to follow up with case management and social work, but the unit was drowning. It was summer, half the world was apparently on vacation, and we were short-staffed as usual.
Now jump back to night four.
The niece had returned.
And apparently she had already cursed my manager out and said everything under the sun during day shift.
I was not having it.
I wanted security to escort her straight out of my unit. But sweet little Auntie was okay with her being there, and my manager told me the concerns were still being investigated and no formal determination had been made.
GURL.
You had THREE DAYS.
What do you mean we are still here?!
By 10 PM, I had my CNA ask the niece to leave.
She left the room looking for Cat.
Then the two of them stood talking in a corner.
Diary, I am usually not bothered by any of the Cats’ drama or behavior unless it interferes with my work.
I have said this before.
Sometimes I genuinely think Cat wants to provoke me into fly-kicking her so she can press charges. God knows I was already at my limit.
More like I should hit her with a phone call about investigating her nursing license!
I went to the nurses’ station to grab a few things.
Then I heard Cat speaking loudly to our student.
Very loudly.
Conveniently loudly.
“I’m going to report that this patient isn’t even being neglected. Ross just hates the niece, and that’s why he raised it for investigation. Take the delay as a sign from God that it isn’t true. You really need to watch what you say and do around some people.”
HEADS TURN AND TWIST!
I walked away.
I prayed so earnestly that the Lord would spare humanity from this girl.
Honestly, she is not fit to be a nurse.
She genuinely is not.
Someone needs to take that license yesterday—or, better yet, last year!
She had not even laid eyes on my patient.
Yet she was ready to tell a student that I had fabricated a concern because I disliked the niece.
A woman I had never met before tonight!
Meanwhile, this poor old lady had bruises and cuts across her body.
A broken shoulder.
Wrist injuries that looked like they had not healed since dinosaurs roamed the Earth.
Repeated falls.
Previous documentation raising concerns about neglect.
And a history of being taken out of medical care before treatment was completed.
But yes.
Clearly Ross woke up and chose to fabricate an entire elder-neglect concern because he was bored.
Lord, give me strength.
The following morning, I was supposed to give report to one of the Cats.
Absolutely not.
I knew, as God was my witness, that somehow my words would grow legs, put on a wig, and come back completely different.
So I dragged my avoidant manager over.
“Today, I want you here while I give report. I’m sorry, but otherwise I’m not doing it. I want a witness present.”
She immediately started:
“This isn’t very encouraging for team spirit—”
And I snapped.
I told her exactly what Cat had been saying to our student overnight.
I reminded her that she had already dealt with the niece herself. Now Cat was openly telling a student that I had fabricated a concern about possible neglect without even assessing the patient herself.
I told my manager:
“Go look at this lady yourself. Look at her injuries and judge for yourself. You’re a nurse too.”
She rolled her eyes.
She sighed.
But she stayed.
I gave my report.
Then I disappeared for four glorious days and nights.
When I returned for my next night shift, I found out Auntie had been taken out against medical advice.
Again.
The niece had taken her.
Again.
Diary, I sat in my chair that night charting, and this time I was not even angry.
My heart just hurt.
Is THIS what we are teaching students?
They should be learning to advocate for their patients.
To question things that do not look right.
To protect vulnerable patients, especially older ones.
Not to dismiss a concern because they dislike the nurse who raised it.
All I could think about was that sweet little lady.
I kept imagining her somewhere alone after another fall, lying on the floor with nobody around to help her.
And if something happens to her, somebody will inevitably turn around and ask:
Why did nobody push harder?
Why did nobody advocate for her?
Why did nobody do something?
I did.
I tried.
And if this situation ever goes further and my name appears anywhere alongside false information, I will defend myself as far as I need to.
I have had enough of this unit’s madness.
A few days ago, I told my manager that if she cannot find me a transfer, I am leaving.
To hell with the rest of my contract.
I would rather work in the ER every single day than stay on this unit.
And Diary…
You know that is saying something.
Heartbroken,
Ross