The night life of a nurse you did not know

Minutes past 4pm I was woken up by the dreaded alarm clock. I had spent my day asleep. Occasionally, I enjoy the solitude of sleeping when everybody else is out there, but not this day. I was tired, exhausted and felt heavier than a sack of Mexican maize.

I sat up, yawned wide open and thought about my life for 37 seconds. It was the third night shift I was scheduled for. I had done two others and one more awaited me. I knew for sure that mine was a sacrifice, something deeper than a profession, something not easily commensurable by a salary. I knew mine was love for humanity and the effort to alleviate suffering. Mine was what nobody else could do. Mine was NURSING.

What I didn't know is what kind of shift lay straight ahead of me. I've never been too adequate for the kind of expectations I get from people, people whose loved ones are literally breathing their last. Even as I ironed my white shirt and dark blue trouser, I had to also ensure I make a meal out of the remnants in my sufuria. I could have chosen the hospital canteen, but often there is no time and worse, a decent plate is unaffordable.

40 minutes down the line, I am ready. I am used to being quick. It's the only option I have. So I pick up my bag, swing it through my left hand to my back and just before I bang the door, I look back and see my bed; I'll miss it tonight too... but worse, it remains unkempt even as I go make other people's.

I've since learnt to carry my own sterile surgical blades and strapping. With me too, occasionally is diclofenac and Aminophylline and a host of other consumables. I still vividly remember how I came to this; a client presented with acute asthmatic attack. It was 2AM. Two years ago. He urgently needed an intravenous injection to open up his bronchus, but there was a catch, in the not more than two minutes that it took me to get the drug from pharmacy, I had received near 200 mixture of questions and abuses from the relatives. To them I had taken two hours.

I was told how I "just seat and take tea" while someone is not breathing. They even doubted whether I had a practice license or was a quack. They asked for a transfer and told me how a certain hospital is better than ours. Never mind, I still did what I was able to do, and not more than three minutes later, the relief was palpable. Nursing had thought me to work through toughness. How not to hear negativity. How to remain sober. How to save lives. This is Nursing and I am a Nurse.

Back to my shift.

As I clocked in for the night, I saw the kind of colleagues I was scheduled with. I knew the night would be easy. They were the quick and collaborative type. All was well till 4am that night. That time, is usually the epitome of exhaustion. The chilliest period of the night and often the darkest. The silence of the night was startled by a bang the door. A bunch of five loosely dressed fellows jumped straight into the desk.

Each of them was yelling Something. I knew someday this was coming, but not today. We swung into action and pulled the stretcher. Headed straight out, I was near blinded by the headlights. A rickety white ambulance stood there, all the four doors wide open. As we stepped right into the action, everybody else stood back. Seconds later, we were pulling back into the emergency room. It's was clearly going to be a battle.

The monitor was reading a downward trend. The oxygen was at its peak. A vein was established in seconds. Resuscitation kicked off, and the chest compressions done. The battle continued well into 6Am. As the news trickled out, we had lost the battle. Nurses had put their own life at the frontline of others. Nurses saw him come, and had saw him too.

They (Nurses) deserve respect. They deserve love. They deserve care. They are nurses. Dear Council of governors, sign nurses CBA.