4am just hit, my feet are sore, my eyes are heavy and all I want is my bed. I have one last set of meds to pass before my shift ends and I can already hear three of my patients hollering my name. “My back hurts, I need my pain medicine!” “I need more ice for my cup!” “I cant find my call light.” It never stops, sometimes, I dont understand why I chose this job. I never dreamed of becoming a nurse. Singing is my passion. I remember being a little girl, standing on the kitchen counter singing along with the radio while my mother cooked. Every morning, she made my favorite breakfast, blueberry pancakes with whip cream in the shape of a smiley face. I can still smell the buttermilk pancakes snd homemade syrup she made. The aroma was so strong and sweet, it touched every wall in the house. She loved my singing. She never missed a recital, until she became ill. Cancer entered her brain once I started highschool. She died on my 19th birthday and I havent sung since. My eyes fluttered with tears as I thought about my mother’s smile. She was kind and caring, willing to help anyone. She reminded me of my patients, ailing but still full of life. A shaky sigh poured from my mouth before gazing down at my cart to check my last patient. I grabbed a hand full of tissue to wipe my papers, my salty tears have soaked.

As im approaching the end of the hall, the alarm sounds. I’m sure its Ms. June in room 4B in need of another bathroom break, that woman never gives me a break. I continue to fill up the cups with pills, hoping and praying one of the other girls will answer the call. I hear loud footsteps echo down the halls, a few more seconds pass and I hear terrified screams come from the room. “Help! Please, we need a nurse!” I quickly drop everything in my hands and sped towards the comotion. Turning into the room, stood five of the nurse assistants surrounding Ms June. The room reaked of blood and alcohol wipes. My body froze and my jaw dropped with shock. I have been a nurse for many years but I never experienced something like this. I ran over to her body, I felt for her pulse, I checked her pupuils. Her IV has been tampered with, the tube is torn and there’s a small syringe next to the trash. Someone was in a hurry. I immediately began cpr until more help arrived. “Stay with me Ms, June, c’mon, hang in there!” All I could think about was my mother. She reminded me of Ms. June in her final stages. She was gentle and soft spoken but stern. She would tell you about all the wild things she did as a younger girl but made you swear not to tell a soul. Her laugh was contagious and her smile lit up any room. I did compressions for what seemed like forever. She was so fragile, a crack let out from every compression. It was a sign that her rips were breaking. I could feel my arms getting weaker after each one. I couldnt stop, she deserved to live. The head nurses burst in the chaotic room. She stands over me as I push on the small, delicate body. I felt her hand graze my shoulder, “Emily.. its over” I knew what she was getting at, I knew there was nothing more any of us could do. Sitting back on my knees, tears rushing down my face. My hands were shaking and covered in blood. The room was silent enough to hear a pen drop. Her heartbeat began to decrease.. *beep……….* the machine flashed, alerting us of what we already knew. We lost her.

A team of EMT’s approach the horrific scene. Their eyes scan the area from top to bottom, left to right. The syringe beside the trashcan. The monitor, that was still signaling a heartbeat could not be found. And the woman we just lost, Ms. June. I looked into the eyes of my fellow nurses, feeling the sorrow they felt. Although Ms. June was a pain, she was an unique soul. One of the EMT’s announced for everyone to exit the room. Picking myself off the floor, my body felt heavy. My legs were numb, my knees were weak. Blood is still dripping on my shirt from the incident. It looked like evidence from a crime scene. Cleaning myself up, I adjust my blue scrub shirt and exit the room.

It still now 6am, one hour left of my shift. Breakfast is starting to be served. My mind is still a blur. I cant focus on my task. Suddenly, two young men appear in the cafeteria with a large cart, that witholds the trays. The smell of pancakes fills the space. “Mm.. blueberry”. That sweet smell was nostalgic. With all the saddness I was currently feeling, it was a sense of relief. It brought back the memories of my mother. The person she was before the cancer. I thought about Ms. June and what her life was like before she became ill. She lived every day full of joy and laughter. Never knowing when her last day may be, she was content. I went over in my head which of Ms. June’s children I should contact first. Her eldest daugther, who visited frequently and brought gifts. Her son, who pays for her stay here. Maybe her youngest daughter, who always seemed to busy to stop by. Moments passed before realizing I only have ten minutes left of my shift. I finished up the paperwork on Ms. June before handing it over to the next nurse. Making my way to the break room to gather my belongings, I passed by Ms. June’s room one last time. The EMT’s had already removed her body. The janitors were cleaning and sanatizing the room for the next patient. The smell of lysol and bleach lingered through the crack of the door. Trashbags containing the blood stained sheets sat outside the door. Her name tag removed from the door. I’ve experienced death before but nothing like this. The image of her body is trapped in my head. The slight metallic scent from medical equipment mixed with body odor and antiseptic agents. The sheets that hung off the edge of the bed from adjusting her body to perform cpr. So many thoughts roamed the inside of my head. Myb watch vibrated notifying, my day has come to an end. I pushed through double doors and exited the premises.