Tag Archives: Flight Nursing

So, You Wanna Be A Flight Nurse… The Future Flight Clinician’s Unofficial Guide to Human Maintenance (Part 2)

Posted in Flight Nurse, So You Wanna Fly by

In Part 1 of this series, we discussed the things nobody tells you about surviving inside a flight suit. We covered hydration, swamp ass prevention, bathroom logistics, and other activities of daily living that somehow become significantly more complicated the moment you climb into a helicopter for a living. Now we switch gears to preparing for your 12 or 24/48 hour shift because one of the biggest surprises in flight medicine isn’t the medicine itself…it’s the lifestyle.

At some point you’ll discover that flight clinicians don’t all live the same existence. Some people work a shift and go home. Others essentially move into a base for one to two days at a time and slowly develop the survival habits of a mildly overprepared unhoused person. The longer you do this job, the more you realize that success isn’t just about taking care of patients but rather about taking care of yourself while living with coworkers, surviving sleep deprivation, and figuring out how to remain a reasonably functional human being after 21 hours of interrupted sleep and nothing but Uncrustables in your food pyramid.

This part of the guide is about that side of flight medicine. So let’s talk about Princess Shifts, Base Dragons, and all the questionable life things that happen in between.

A Tale of Two Flight Crews

One of the first things you’ll discover in flight medicine is that people can work the exact same job while living completely different lifestyles.

On one side you have the twelve-hour crews who I lovingly refer to as the Princess Shift people. Now before anyone gets OFFENDED (God Forbid), understand that I say this with both love and a sense of “been there and done that”. Princess Shift clinicians arrive at work carrying a lunch, a water bottle, and perhaps a healthy amount of optimism. They complete their shift and then return home to their own shower, their own refrigerator, their own bed, and a thermostat nobody else is allowed to touch. They are still members of society depending on when their 12s fall. These folks have “routines”. Their Yetis/Stanleys/Manleys/Fetis belong to them and their pillows have never been used by a stranger filling in from another base. It’s honestly adorable.

Then there are the rest of us: the 24- and 48-hour crews who eventually stop thinking of the base as a workplace and begin viewing it as a mildly dysfunctional second residence. They don’t just show up for work but rather move in because heaven knows once your car gets thrown into park, you won’t see the outside work except for transports until you punch out. And speaking of cars and from personal experience at some point your car becomes less of a vehicle and more of a mobile storage unit. You start keeping backup clothes, extra shoes, chargers, medications, snacks, pillows, blankets, and enough miscellaneous supplies to survive a moderate societal collapse. If 12 hour shifters are Princesses, the extended stay clinicians are more akin to dragons with a hoard of every possible thing they may need. They are akin to doomsday preppers.

The difference becomes obvious the moment you start packing for shift. Princesses need to survive the shift for the equivalent of your usual hospital shift while a 48 hour shift requires logistics. For example:

  • Princess Shift people bring enough food for a meal or two whereas your base squatters bring groceries that are enough for a day or two and can withstand the test of time (or a crew who never makes it back with enough time to make a full meal). Non-shelf stable things sometimes just don’t hold up to the rigors of a busy flu-season shift.
  • Princesses bring a phone charger and maybe one for their iPad or laptop. Long-haulers bring a charger, a backup charger, a backup for the backup charger, and a charging cable hidden somewhere private because they’ve been betrayed before and never saw their Apple brand iphone charger again. (Pro tip: if you bring extra chargers, never lend out your GOOD charger instead of the one from Five Below).
  • Princess Shift people carry one energy drink or stop for a ✨Starbies✨. Dragon people have emergency caffeine reserves tucked away like Cold War fallout supplies– but the difference really lies in the timing of their consumption. Just enough to function but not enough to impede the obligatory safety nap.

The longer you work extended shifts, the more your packing strategy starts resembling disaster preparedness. Especially where I work in the desert, we have 24-hour gas stations but if you need a tampon or toothbrush its going to cost you a firstborn. Forget about a pharmacy as the closest one is 45-minutes away on a good day.

You begin asking questions that normal people never ask. How many pairs of underwear is enough for forty-eight hours (see Part 1 for my dissertation on flight suit swamp ass)? How many snacks will realistically survive until tomorrow (forget that moody avocado or banana). If civilization collapses, which energy drink should I drink first? Should I drink it at 2 am for that cardiac arrest we’re on standby for (knowing we could get cancelled)? Do I have a caffeine problem and where is the closest meeting? These are legitimate operational considerations.

The coping mechanisms differ too. One of the greatest advantages of a twelve-hour shift is that eventually you get to go home. Bad shift? Go home. Bad partner? Go home. Bad mood? Go home. Weird day? Go home. Intractable shits? Ew… seriously, go home, Typhoid Mary. The solution to many problems is simply leaving.

Those on 24 to 48 hour shifts don’t have that luxury. If you’re angry, tired, annoyed, overstimulated, or emotionally exhausted, congratulations….you’re still living with the same people. Sometimes for another twenty-four hours.* THIS creates an entirely different social ecosystem.

*If you have intractable shits on a long shift… GO HOME DAMMIT.

Every crew eventually develops its own rhythms. You’ll learn who needs caffeine before conversation (my ex-partner, Aaron) . You’ll learn who wakes up cheerful and immediately becomes everyone’s least favorite person (probably me somedays). You’ll learn who stress cleans, who stress eats (me), who stress naps (also me), and who stress reorganizes the refrigerator (my pilot, Jani).

You’ll also learn that every extended shift follows a surprisingly predictable psychological timeline:

  • The first few hours are normal. Everyone is professional, polite, and is still pretending to be a functional adult.
  • By that 3 am IFT things begin to deteriorate. The conversations become stranger, jokes increasingly stupid, someone develops a strong emotional attachment to a specific recliner or starts eating shredded cheese directly out of the bag (surprise, me).

My favorite is the fatigued dead-leg flights where entire philosophical debates emerge regarding whether cereal is technically a soup or hotdogs a sandwich (no and yes). Nobody knows how these conversations begin but everyone participates anyway. My partner, Tiffany, wants to make a podcast with nothing but our weird ass conversations in the aircraft.

By the final hours of your long ass shift, the crew often resembles a group of survivors who have been stranded together much longer than they actually have. The strange part is that this isn’t necessarily bad… probably not necessarily GOOD but not bad. Some of the strongest friendships in my life came from extended shifts…There is something uniquely bonding about sharing meals, call volume, exhaustion, turbulence going to Palm Springs, weird patients (and their associated awkward smells), and the occasional 3 a.m. existential crisis with the same group of people. Ya’ll see each other at your best and at your worst. You see each other after hourrrrssssss of sleep deprivation, three energy drinks, and one deeply questionable EMS room yogurt.

If you learn anything, its that there’s not much room for pretending. Eventually the professional masks come off and people become who they actually are. That’s when you find out whether you’ve got a good crew, nay…. a work family. And the funny thing is that most of us eventually start identifying with whichever lifestyle we work. Princess Shift people think the Base Dragons are insane while the Base Dragon think Princess Shift people are soft. Both groups are convinced they’re right and neither group is changing their mind because like…have you MET flight clinicians? Legit some are the stubbornest, most cannot be wrong people I’ve met. The truth is that both schedules have advantages and disadvantages: one just happens to require significantly more backup underwear (refer to previous post on underwear).

Ok, So We Established The Difference In Shift Culture… What Should I Bring?

When I first started working extended shifts, I packed like I was going to work at a 12 hour base plus a toothbrush and basic bedding. Somewhere along the way, I realized I was actually moving in. A twelve-hour shift is easy. If you forget something, you’ll survive. If lunch is disappointing, you’ll survive. If you don’t bring a charger, you’ll probably survive (or you’ll steal the work iPad one).

However, on a 24/48 shift forgetting things has consequences. Forget your charger and suddenly you’re rationing battery life when you’d rather be taking flight suit thirst traps. Forget your pillow and you’re spending two nights trying to sleep on something that reminds you of ’90s sleepovers where you used a bathmat for a blanket. Forget deodorant and your partner is now involved in a problem they didn’t create.

An if I’m being frank about my locker…we’ll call it a “Situation” …the amount of stuff you accumulate over time is honestly a little embarrassing. It starts innocently enough with a few extra things like an extra charger, spare socks, and a “not been used by someone else’s’ ass” towel. Then one day you realize you’ve got a dedicated drawer at the base, a backup toiletry kit, enough pepto bismol to stop up several elephants for a month, and a favorite coffee mug that would genuinely upset you if somebody else used it. Nobody plans for this to happen, it just does.

I think the biggest difference between the two schedules is that twelve-hour crews pack for the shift they’re expecting while the long shift crews pack for the shift they’re afraid they’re going to get because if flight medicine teaches you anything, it’s that eventually you’ll need the thing you left at home.

12 Hour Shift

  • A decent meal
  • At least one backup snack for when you can’t eat said meal
  • Water bottle
  • Phone charger
  • Sunglasses
  • Chapstick
  • Ibuprofen or Tylenol (if youre a weeny)
  • A spare pen
  • A lightweight hoodie or jacket
  • Wipes
  • Hand lotion if you work somewhere dry
  • Electrolyte packets in hot climates
  • Backup caffeine for when the first caffeine fails
  • A spare pair of socks
  • A spare pair of underwear (you’ll understand eventually)
  • Hair ties if applicable
  • Gum or mints
  • A small battery pack
  • Something to entertain you if you get no calls
  • Bedding if you’re on an overnight shift with the ability to nap
  • Emotional Support Toothbrush
  • Extra flight suit (because ick happens)
  • Comfortable base shoes (boots get old)

24-48 Hour Shift

  • Enough food for the entire hitch
  • Extra snacks because your original plan was overly optimistic (preferably protein)
  • Your preferred creamer
  • Water bottle
  • Electrolyte packets
  • Caffeine
  • Backup caffeine
  • Phone charger
  • Chargers for everything else
  • Battery pack
  • Medications
  • Pain relievers
  • Sunglasses
  • Pillow from home
  • Blanket/Sheets
  • Hoodie/Jacket
  • Comfortable clothes for after hours (including base shoes)
  • Shower shoes
  • Toothbrush and toothpaste
  • Deodorant
  • Dry shampoo (Women in hot conditions)
  • Your own towel
  • Chapstick
  • Hand lotion
  • Wipes!
  • Preferred soap/shampoo
  • Moisturizer
  • Extra socks
  • Extra underwear
  • More extra underwear
  • Hair ties
  • Nail clippers/File (I break my nails a lot and it drives me nuts)
  • Ear plugs
  • Eye mask
  • White noise app or machine
  • Spare contact lenses or glasses
  • Whatever hobby keeps you from staring at the wall whenever its the “S-word”.

The longer you work 24s and 48s, the more you realize comfort isn’t about luxury. It’s about reducing friction. A good pillow, a hot shower, fresh socks, and your favorite sweatpants can dramatically improve your outlook on life at 0300 after three flights.

Hopefully, this helps you figure out how to survive your shifts, no matter how short or long they are. At the end of the day, the work and the people we interface with can break you down. When you’re on base, find ways to practice self-care by ensuring your hydrated, you have something in your stomach, and you don’t feel like your socks will walk off on their own after a hot day.

A little bonus I am going to throw in is the weird things I have at base (or bring with me) that help me survive: My stuffed snow leopard. A body pillow. A heating pad (this is for those of us 35 years old and up). A small humidifier (‘cuz ‘Zona). Caffeine pouches in 100 and 200mg for late night calls. Hazelnut creamer. Oversized sweat pants. Fuzzy socks. My Kindle or current crochet project.

If you are an experienced flight clinician, what things do you bring to work to help make the difference for your well-being?

-Clear skies and tail winds!

So, You Wanna Be A Flight Nurse… The Remix: Interview your Interviewer

Posted in Flight Nurse, So You Wanna Fly by

This is part of a series I will tagline as A Retrospective from a “Senior” Flight Nurse. Years ago, as a shiny, new flight nurse I wrote about what it took to get me here. Many years have passed and with experience comes clarity. My goal with this new series is to guide you in your journey to the sky with both an optimistic albeit realistic view. I still maintain that if you want it, you can have it… but you need to learn what “having it” really entails.

Part 1 of this series discusses the hard questions you should be asking of your potential new flight agency.

There’s a weird culture in flight medicine where candidates sometimes feel like they’re supposed to sit quietly in interviews, smile politely, and just feel grateful somebody picked them. Meanwhile you’re interviewing for a job that involves bad weather/sleep deprivation, adrenaline/operational risk/trauma/complex medicine/living with weirdos for 12-48 hours at a clip, and occasionally trying to keep someone alive in what is essentially a loud flying portapotty.

You should absolutely be asking uncomfortable questions. Not rude questions. Not gotcha questions. But honest ones because here’s the thing nobody tells you early on in your career: every flight program has problems. Every 👏single 👏one. The important part isn’t whether issues exist but whether or not leadership is aware of them, HONEST about them, and actively trying to improve them. If an agency can’t tolerate respectful questions during an interview, imagine what happens when you raise concerns after they hire you.

The shiny helicopter, cool flight suit, and social media ✨aura✨ are the easy parts to sell. What’s harder to see from the outside is the operational culture underneath it all. Are crews supported when they decline unsafe flights? Is staffing chronically held together by caffeine, empty promises and incentive pay? Do clinicians feel respected? Is leadership visible? Are people leaving for normal life reasons… or sprinting for the exits because glossed over problems ?

An interview is not a beautypageant where your only job is to impress them rather you are interviewing them too. Frankly in this industry your safety, license, mental health (what’s that?), and quality of life depend on it.

So if I were giving advice to someone walking into a flight interview tomorrow, these are some the uncomfortable questions I’d tell them to ask and if not asked in an interview, they are things I’d want to know before accepting a position. Read on at your own risk 🙃

Here are some hard but (IMHO) fair questions candidates should consider asking about their potential new employer:

Safety Culture & Operational Pressure

Because “safety first” is easy to print on a glossy poster but the real question is what happens when somebody actually says ‘no” to a flight. Flight medicine lives in the uncomfortable intersection of risk/ego/weather/fatigue/production pressure. You want to know whether this company truly backs their crews making conservative decisions… or weather they only endorse safety until it delays a revenue flight.

  • “Can you give me an example of a time your crew declined a flight for safety concerns, and how leadership responded?”
  • “What is your process for handling operational concerns brought up by pilots or clinicians who speak up?”
  • “How often are crews pressured, directly or indirectly, to complete borderline weather minimum flights?”
  • “What trends have you identified in your recent safety reports or ASAP reporting?”
  • “How does your program balance completion pressure with risk management?”
  • “What does your Just Culture process look like for your team?”
  • “What operational decisions changed after your last major safety event or near miss?” (This is a good thing to research about the program before even interviewing— major events often are public knowledge and heavily covered by media).
  • “What is your current fatigue mitigation strategy for crews?”
  • “How often do crews formally debrief difficult or high-risk missions?”

Leadership & Organizational Honesty

Every company says they’re family until staffing gets weird and suddenly Daddy Corporate starts acting stingy. Leadership culture matters because it trickles all the way down to the frontline; if you’ve been in healthcare before, you already know this. If leadership can’t openly discuss their weaknesses, the turnovers, or crew frustrations during an interview, imagine how transparent they’ll be during an ACTUAL operational problem.

  • “What do you believe is the biggest contributor to staff turnover here?”
  • “What would your current crews identify as the largest dissatisfier in the program?”
  • “What feedback do you hear repeatedly from exiting employees?”
  • “How visible and accessible is leadership to line crews?”
  • “How does leadership respond when a clinician disagrees with an operational decision?”
  • “How often do frontline clinicians participate in policy or protocol discussions?”

Clinical Expectations & Support

Some programs advertise themselves like you’re joining a high speed/low drag hoodrat-sh!t medical unit but then you spend 90% of your life transferring stable UTI patients at 2 a.m (no drips, no specials, no fun). There’s nothing wrong with that but candidates deserve honesty about what the job actually looks like. You also want to know whether the agency truly supports clinical growth or just expects you to somehow maintain high-acuity skills through ✨vibes ✨ and annual competencies.

  • “What types of calls are your crews realistically flying most often?”
  • “What skills are expected frequently versus theoretically?”
  • “How are low-frequency, high-risk procedures maintained?”
  • “How does your program support clinicians after particularly traumatic calls?”
  • “What is your orientation failure rate, and what usually predicts success here?”
  • “What continuing education is actually protected time versus expected on personal time?”
  • “How much autonomy do crews truly have in clinical decision-making?”
  • “What are your expectations regarding scene response versus interfacility priorities?”

Staffing & Burnout

Fatigue in this industry gets romanticized waaaaay too much. People joke about being “chronically caffeinated raccoons,” but exhausted clinicians make mistakes and mistakes can kill people. Burnout doesn’t usually happen because of one bad call; it happens because of chronic short staffing, constant OT, poor sleep, lack of support, and feeling like leadership sees you as a pulse with a license.

  • “What percentage of your open shifts are currently filled with overtime or incentive staffing?”
  • “How often are crews held over shift?”
  • “What is your current vacancy rate?”
  • “What does scheduling flexibility realistically look like?”
  • “How long do clinicians typically stay here?”
  • “What differentiates the people who thrive here from the people who leave?”
  • “How often are crews working short or without ideal staffing?”
  • “What systems are in place to prevent burnout besides pizza and woo-woo online learning modules?” (For the love of God dont invoke pizza party protocol in your interview..Actually, maybe just ask what systems are in place to prevent burnout… stop there).

Aircraft, Equipment & Resources

Nothing builds character quite like fighting broken equipment in the back of a vibrating tin can while somebody’s blood pressure actively leaves the chat (we’re cooked). Equipment issues aren’t just annoyances in transport medicine; they become patient care issues very quickly. Candidates should know whether crews feel heard when they identify problems or whether maintenance requests disappear into the corporate abyss of “we’ll look into it”.

  • “How quickly are maintenance concerns addressed?”
  • “What equipment issues frustrate crews the most right now?”
  • “How old is your fleet, and what modernization plans exist?”
  • “How often are aircraft swapped or downgraded operationally?”
  • “What equipment limitations most commonly affect patient care?”
  • “How much clinician input exists in equipment purchasing decisions?”

Compensation & Retention

Wanting to make the world a better place doesn’t pay the mortgage and neither does “passion.” Flight clinicians are highly trained specialists working in one of the riskiest environments in civilian healthcare. So asking about compensation and retention isn’t greedy-it’s adult behavior. Also, programs that retain experienced clinicians usually have a reason just like programs that constantly hemorrhage staff also probably have a reason….

  • “When was the last major compensation adjustment for crews?”
  • “How does the company address retention beyond sign-on bonuses?”
  • “What career growth paths realistically exist here?”
  • “What percentage of leadership previously worked line positions in this program?”

I feel like managers and recruiters are going to hate me for this advice— but it matters. It’s mattered in my personal experience and there is an industry wide conversation on many of these factors. That being said…you can usually tell within 30 seconds whether an agency has insight… or just rehearsed talking points. A healthy program won’t expect blind loyalty and it’ll respect informed skepticism.

That being said: I’m not telling you to go in and get a cocky industry know-it-all. When I bring these questions up, I’m not doing so to make you feel like you need to fix a company’s problems— and really trying to exam culture and safety can come off as aggressive if you don’t handle it tactfully and with respect. These types of questions are meant to help you get a feel for if this company will value you as you value it. So don’t go in like a jerk but rather than a clinician with discernment.

Finally, I encourage you all to remember this: there’s no greener grass, just different dog shit hiding on the lawn. It’s up to you to decide which dog shit you’re willing to tolerate (me: chihuahua sized and not those weird fossilized white dog turds).

-Clear skies and tail winds!

Because I know yall are heathens… here’s the too long; didn’t read.

TL;DR: Candidates in flight medicine should interview agencies as hard as agencies interview them. Ask directly about safety culture, turnover, fatigue, staffing, leadership transparency, operational pressure, and how crews are treated when they say “no.”

Are you an experienced flight clinician? Add your hard questions below!

Are We Misremembering or Is It Easier to Get into Flight Nursing Now?

Posted in Flight Nurse by

Spoiler: It’s not just you.

I remember when getting into flight nursing felt like chasing a unicorn. It was the elite club of critical care, the badge of honor you earned after years in the trenches, a hundred codes, and more night shifts than the moon. You needed ICU cred, trauma street smarts, the ability to start an IV in the dark (with turbulence probably upside down), and preferably a personality that didn’t crack under pressure.

Now? Blink twice and someone’s in a flight suit with just the minimum required experience and a freshly laminated NRP/RN license.

What…Is… Happening.

Okay, let’s talk about the pandemic-shaped elephant in the room. COVID didn’t just shake the snow globe, it SHATTERED the whole thing. Healthcare was gutted, burned out, stretched thin, and then duct-taped together again. Experienced nurses left in droves, either because they couldn’t take another shift in PPE or they realized their lives were worth more than their paychecks (wild concept, right?). And just like that the flight industry, already a small, specialized corner of nursing, was desperate.

Enter: lowered barriers. Don’t get me wrong, some of the newer folks coming in are absolutely incredible. Passionate, smart, adaptable. But the truth is, the bar just isn’t as high anymore. So programs that once required five years of ICU, a resume written in blood, and a letter of recommendation from the ghost of Florence Nightingale are now hiring with, well, let’s just say a little more “flexibility”.

Orientation programs got longer. Clinical ride time got shorter. Preceptors are working overtime trying to build experience that normally takes years because it has to happen right friggin now. And while this isn’t about blaming individuals (again, a lot of these folks are stepping up big time), it’s worth asking: “what does this mean for safety, patient outcomes, and the long-term health of the flight community?”

Honestly? Meh…

On one hand, the door being slightly more open is awesome for motivated nurses who’ve dreamed of flying but didn’t want to wait a decade and sacrifice a goat under a full moon to get there. On the otherrrr hand, there’s something a little nerve-wracking about seeing the steep learning curve of flight medicine get compressed into a one month crash course.

Flight nursing isn’t just cool uniforms and skyline selfies…it’s knowing how to titrate pressors, dose your sedation, all while troubleshooting a vent at 3,000 feet/125 knots. It’s recognizing when your patient’s going south and there’s no code team to back you up, just you, your partner, and whatever fits in that aircraft (which feels like more and more with no increase in space). And let’s be real, there’s a difference between being “trainable” and being READY for a patient actively trying to die on you mid-air.

So yes, it’s easier to get in right now, but that doesn’t mean it’s easier to stay. Flight nursing still demands the same resilience, critical thinking, and ability to function with one eye on your patient and the other scanning your horizon. The pressure is just distributed differently now, and it’s often falling on the backs of experienced preceptors and med crew trying to bridge the gap.

In the end, the skies may be a little more crowded with new faces, but if we nurture them, teach them right, don’t skip the hard conversations, maybe this next generation will carry the torch with just as much grit and grace.

And if not? Well, I’ll be the one in the corner muttering about “back in my day” while fixing the pulse ox (again) mid-flight.

Good, Better, Not Best…

Posted in Motivation, Personal Growth by

You read that right. We need to stop being the best.

We need to stop having this ideal in our heads we need to hustle until we’re the best at what we do in our respective fields. 

By now you’re probably dismissing me as lazy and incompetent, or at minimum: copping out. 

Hear me out. 

When you climb to the top of ladder and run out of rungs, where is there left to go? Nowhere. So when you’re the best, what do you have left to strive for? Nothing. So what is to say you won’t fall to the level of complacency and eventual incompetence? Nothing. You’ll have your hungry ones who will fight to stay on top, sure. They’re the exception and not the rule. However, they too are not immune–that constant hustle is exhausting and complacency is pretty tempting. 

What if: instead, we tried to be better than ourselves yesterday but not as good as what we’ll be tomorrow?

Progress isn’t linear, it’s cyclic. It’s a war; each day a new battle against mediocrity. 

I don’t wanna be the best, I wanna be great. I don’t need to be known for how I was the best flight nurse or even the best nurse. I’d rather be remembered for my constant drive to better myself even when I was wrong. I’d rather be known for my passion even when I failed. I’d rather be known for my love of passing that love on to others or the inspiration I bequeathed.

I don’t wanna be the best because the best get cocky and they kill people. The best still can mess up because they know they’re the apex predators…there is a reason sharks don’t have to turn their heads and yet they die by swimming straight into nets. This is the concept of hubris from the Ancient Greeks and the basis of the Christian proverb: “pride cometh before the fall” (Proverbs 16:18).

Perhaps this seems like a controversial idea. Why wouldn’t someone want to be the best in a field that almost always requires and expects you to be the best of the best? A field that is highly competitive?

Because of complacency.

When you strive and hustle for so long and then get what you want, you get complacent. You know who isn’t complacent? The guy coming after your job. They’re working their ass off trying to get what you have. If you don’t wanna continue to earn your title—don’t worry, someone else will. 

I’m ok with other people being better than me. Because that gives me a constantly moving target to aim for. It keeps me excited and keeps me hungry for more. It makes me work and train. Having role models means I need to keep on my toes to stay great. I don’t want to be the best because I want to stay working for what I have. It makes me question “why” and “how”, not just nod and blindly say “ok, fine.”

We hold a great responsibility.

We’re the role models, we set the standards. People want what we have… that’s heavy. Not only do we have lives in our hands but we also hold the potential to inspire. Our work ethics model how others shape theirs. Eyes are on us when we shirk our duties to train, keep up our equipment, and maintain the competencies keeping us sharp and competitive. Taking out the fact it is a disservice to our constituents… it is a disservice to ourselves and those who look at us with stars in their eyes. 

And when they (these unbeknownst protégés of ours) come to us and tell us “I want to be just like you….” I hope we all have the humbleness to be able to look to these people and say “No… I want you to be better than me, be smarter and faster, more talented and successful than me… do more, be more than me… that’s my wish for you…” 

So don’t strive to be the best… strive to be better. Strive to stay as hungry as the first time you wanted to apply for the job. 

Don’t be good, be better, but don’t kill yourself being the best at the cost of your health, sanity, and life… the only one you’re competing with is yesterday-self and tomorrow-self. 

-Clear skies and tail winds, friends

Six Sentiments for Season Six: Nurses Week 2020

Posted in COVID-19, Motivation, Personal Growth, Uncategorized by

Heeeeeeey Nurseeeeeee!

In honor of Nurses Week 2020 and what will be my sixth year of nursing, I wanted to make a post with the six observations I have about who I am as a nurse and pieces of wisdom I wanted to share.

  1. I came into this profession shiny and new with clean, pressed edges and resounding hope. While I still believe in the goodness of people, my cotton is a bit wrinkled now from the disregard shown by humanity. It’s intact still, not threadbare and laid waste from years of abuse quite yet. You can see the change notably from six years ago. Sometimes something really good happens that irons out the wrinkles and makes the cotton look renewed though. Sometimes when a small tear happens, a kind soul will come along a patch it up. In our profession, we can’t expect our cloth to stay immaculate–we should expect it to become a bit dirty and a bit worn. But we need to allow ourselves to let it be repaired and refreshed. Our work is meaningful.
  2. Protect your “helpers.” Value them. Now when I say “helpers” I don’t mean that these people are there to serve YOU (The Nurse)–you are all there for the common goal of bettering a patient. These individuals help in making your jobs easier though. So value them. Protect their interests. Are your respiratory therapists lobbying for better equipment? Join them. They know their specialty and there is probably a reason. Is another nurse abusing her patient care technician? Step up. Be a leader by advocating for that person. Is the department paramedic pushing for more privileges their license allows them to do? Speak up! These are our team mates. Rally to their sides.
  3. Pass on what you learn. It is so easy to find information and hoard it but its better for a department when you disseminate it. In this pandemic, I early on volunteered to moderate a Facebook Group Covid-19 Healthcare Professionals (click for link) which at the time (early March?) had like 300 people. The idea was to have a place for professionals to share information and develop a community. It quickly grew to over 84,000 people (at time of writing). Ideas flew like crazy from how to prevent skin breakdown from face masks to setting up vents and pumps outside negative pressure rooms. But the idea was this: knowledge sharing. Teach what you know to others–precept new team mates and if more experienced or older staff ask for help with something, teach without judgement. Do all acts for the betterment of the whole.
  4. Nursing will disappoint you. A lot. Frequently. Management will promise you the world only to give you scraps whether on purpose or not. Toad, Four Year Degree in Bladder HoldingPatients will burn you despite you breaking your back for them. The pay will never equal the work some days. Lunches won’t come some days and your bladder will harden to that comparable to those weird frogs that hibernate for years in Australia (I pulled out that metaphor from somewhere…don’t @ me).
  5. You don’t always get what you want (to quote the Rolling Stones). In fact–get used to it. I had a lot of “no’s” told to me in six years. Career paths I thought I wanted that went to other people. It hurt, guys. Baaaaaaaad. But the funny thing about “no” is sometimes it’s just a primer for “because here’s this instead! TA-FRIIIIGGGGIINNN-DAAA!” And it really is better. I didn’t always trust that I was told no for a reason. I felt like that no was my own resounding failure when in reality it was just because I was a better fit elsewhere. That job I thought was perfect? It took a wiser nurse sitting me down and telling me I wouldn’t be happy doing it. I didn’t believe her for a while and I was bitter at her assumption–how could she possibly know what I wanted? But she was right. I should’ve listened instead of being angry. Because my dream job offer came half a year later. Even if you don’t get that dream offer like I did right away, keep at it. Something I always tell new nurses or nurses trying to strive for something is this: Never accept “no”–rephrase it as “not right now.” By accepting that no and letting the door slam in your face, you’re missing possibilities of three more doors opening just down the road to even better opportunities.
  6. While nursing has given me the most painful memories and caused me some of the worst heartaches–it has given me so much more. It has given me purpose. Friendships. Meaning. It has saved my life when I felt it didn’t mean anything. Days I didn’t want to get out of bed–I knew I was needed by my coworkers and patients. Somedays that made the difference for me just knowing that the work I did with my two little hands caused change gives my career meaning. I’m proud of what I do and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else even on my worst days… find meaning in your work. This will help you power through the ugliest parts of our job.

 

So this week… this whole month… this whole year… hold your heads up high, Nurses.

We have faced insurmountable odds in some parts of the world and in those not necessarily being inundated by viral illness but rather facing unemployment from low-census or budget-cuts. The world sees us and while they may not necessarily empathize with our plights and administration may still gift us pizza parties (not you night shift–you get half eaten stale donuts because “tradition”) instead of safe staffing and all the things we really need…we’ll still keep showing up and providing top-notch care.

Happy Nurses Week!