Stepping away from the bedside chaos

It's been a month since the nurses strike in NYC ended. I was among the 15,000 nurses who walked out their clinical posts to fight for better wage, better patient safety, and better staffing. It was monumental, to say the least. There was truly really nothing like it. It's one of those memories I'll forever keep in my mind.

I can still remember the excitement of waiting for the clock to strike six-- my handmade posters secretly stacked in the break room, my anxiety turned up a notch and I was left wondering whether I left a task undone, or if I forgot an important thing to write on a piece of paper. You see, it wasn't a normal endorsement. I had to write patient details on a report sheet for the nurse manager to read. I tried my best to write legibly; well, at least I hope I did.

I don't know how many times I had to revisit labs, orders, vital signs trends, and other clinical data just to make sure that I didn't miss anything. As an ICU nurse, it felt uneasy. It felt like condensing someone's life into bullet points. What if I missed something, how would I tell the incoming nurse? What if they have questions and I wasn't there to answer? A lot of what ifs but what silenced my mind was the fact that the reason we walked out is bigger than one patient. And most importantly, bigger than my anxiety.

My coworkers and I gathered in the break room after handing the report sheets to our nurse manager.

"Go, go, go. It's almost six," she exclaimed enthusiastically. It felt weird because it seemed like she was thrilled about the whole thing. But actually deep inside, I was thrilled too. And yes, I also felt weird and guilty about it.

We walked out slowly but it felt like we marched. Loud chants and blazing horns overwhelmed my senses as we exited the main doors. Hundreds of nurses and hospital staff were in the street, cheering every single person that walked out. It was still dark out but the gleaming smiles were enough to brighten the gloomy atmosphere. The air was cold but it wasn't the reason for my goosebumps.

We were asked to line up to sign the attendance sheet, and afterwards were provided some gloves, scarves, hand warmers, and clappers. They turned out pretty useful because between the freezing temperatures and strong winds, we still managed.

The first day was a success.

And the day after that.

And the day after that.

Days turned into weeks. And the number of nurses going to the picket lines dwindled down. Truth be told, I got tired of having no paycheck. I wasn't used to it. I wasn't used to not having money coming in. I don't know if it's the hustle mindset that I have, or it's just how I am. I ended up going to my PRN job more where I act as a supervisor in a skilled nursing facility.

We were advised by our union representatives to sign up for unemployment benefits. I didn't. Instead, I worked. I began to have a different perspective on work. As days passed, I was able to reflect on my professional career and what I still wanted to do.

Epstein files didn't help. The hospital I was working at turned out to be one of the hospitals that protected some of the doctors involved in the scandal. At this point, I was weighing the pros and cons of working there. I found myself applying to different hospitals and facilities with different positions. My DON at my PRN job wanted me to take a full time position to which I said no to because it was a little far from where I live. The offer was tempting, but at this point in my life, I value peace of mind and stability over money.

I opened up to my roommate saying I really wanted a soft life as a nurse. Not too chaotic. Not too anxiety-inducing. Not too much. But I still wanted growth. She told me she has a job that she can refer me to. Then I applied.

This brings me to my current job: nurse manager at a sub-acute facility.

More to write about this job but the fact that I have time to write this tells you a lot about my work-life balance lately.

'Til the next post!