I'll see you in the ICU!

Where to begin?

It is July 11th, 2026, and I'm sitting here, suddenly remembering my old blog, not remembering anything but the name of it. I googled it and found a thread on a nursing website of CRNA hopefuls that were searching for any and all information about becoming one. Sooooo much has happened. Like sure--it's been 16 years since I left Columbia. 19 as a nurse. It's funny the student hopefuls said that I sounded pessimistic in my posts--well, welcome to nursing. I haven't met a single one of us that isn't cynical, pessimistic, tired of getting abused by administration, doctors, patients, and especially, other nurses.

The fast update is that I'm now on FMLA for PTSD. My husband died suddently and unexpectedly while driving me to a doctor's appointment to get a cast my broken foot, after a month of the podiatrist telling me to walk on it with the boot--only to cause increasing pain. I looked it up and yeah, a diffuse fracture of the cuboid bone should be in a CAST. He finally agreed. And George came home early from work to drive me to the appointment when the day came.

On the onramp to the freeway, about 3 minutes from our house, the car started drifting towards the guardrail. He was looking in the rearview mirror, at the dogs we had recently adopted. We couldn't leave them alone at home yet, so while i was in the doctor's appointments, he would walk them around the hospital, then pick me up at the main entrance when I texted him. We had done this for a month while I went to all the various appointments. We also did similar when grocery shopping. I'd sit in the car with them while he went in and did the shopping. Savage rescues. I will try to upload a pic of my little saviors.

SO, I pointed out we were drifting out of the lane. He said "i'm sorry" and I said "that's ok--just be careful hon." and he was gone. Suddenly, a passenger in a moving vehicle with an unresponsibe driver. The love of my life, my best friend. I grabbed the wheel, steered us to the shoulder, pulled the brake, put it in park, couldn't get out of the car because one of our dogs, the husky, knew how to lower the windows by standing on the buttons in the armrest so he had the child locks on. I was trapped and couldn't get out until I realized the locks were on (something that was a point of irritation for me when I wanted to lower MY window on rides) I managed to reach over to his armrest controls and unlock the doors, I hopped around the car, opened his door and on one foot could not get purchase to lift him up and out. I remembered suddenly that I hadn't called 911. And like in all bad dreams where you can't operate your phone, I couldn't unlock my phone, find the phone part of the phone. and couldn't operate the calling function. I must have on the second try, becuase I was able to get thru to dispatch, who started trying to talk me through CPR.

I should say that I left ICU when I realized I no longer wanted to pursue anesthesia, and I did not posess the temperent to sit in an OR with bitchy surgeons and get blamed for their mistakes. Long story for anther time. So I settled into PACU with my anesthesia knowlege, it was a good fit. I liked recovering patients post anesthesia, and the money was enough. I did that for 17 years. So I know CPR, and ACLS--do it for a living when required. I threw the phone in the passenger seat. Someone showed up, a big burly guy, who lifted George out of the driver seat like a rag doll. We laid him on the asphalt and started CPR. I couldn't. He did compressions. A city cop showed up (he looked exactly like my friend's dad, who was Capitan of the local PD until he died suddenly of a myocardial infarct years prior, but I was in a daze otherwise I'd have said "Jim? is that you?") He pushed the burly guy off compressions and took over. I tried giving breaths. Bright red blood came from George's mouth. I thought maybe he was having a PE, but in retrospect, his ribs were cracked and the lungs were pierced. It's nothing that can be prevented during aggressive CPR. His heart was stopped anyway. The coroner's report indicated what I suspected. LDA *(The Widowmaker) was 95% or more, I don't remember, blocked.

So--back to my PTSD. I was gone from work for 11 months, between. my broken foot and my broken life. I wasn't sleeping, eating...I don't remember much but my oldest friend, now retired and living in Portugal, flew here to stay with me, but I honestly only remember snippets. My head was not on right.

So, I returned to work after 11 months, everyone expecting that I'd be "over it" (Narrator's voice: She was not over it)

PTSD affects short term memory. So, there was I was taking report, and not able to remember two sentences ago. This got on the bullies' nerves. Long story short--the bullies in nursing are every bit as bad as you've heard. And in my raw, exposed nerve state, it got to me. I finally bowed out. I'm currently trying to re-imagine my life now. Without George. Without Nursing. Without my mind.

I will try to come back and document some more, this post is long enough. But I guess this is a way of apologizing for my absense. Nursing is not a kind profession. It will eat you up and spit you out. 9/10 friends that went into it are doing something else now. One went off into real estate. A few went into informatics, one now does those skin care scams and hits you up constantly as if you're a potential customer (eventually either I blocked her or she unfriended me...I don't remember which) yeah. so...I will write about that soon enough. There's lots to say.

I was going to write a book about all of this and call it "What I wish I had known about the nursing profession before I became a nurse" Sort of what Anthony Bourdain did for chefs in Kitchen Confidential. Anyway, that's it for now. Sorry for the long post. I hope you're all doing well.

posted by sketchmonkey @ 10:40 AM