"I will keep fighting"

So. Having just completed my first week, I have experienced a range of emotions. "Going into nursing was the best decision ever". "Going into nursing was a huge mistake, I am never going to be able to do this". I went to work with a plan. It was a great plan. One little phone call with the words "short-staffed" meant that my wonderful plan went out the window.

I ended up on the ward instead of in the clinic. I was happy to help, as I know that this is what the job entails. I also work for the trust, not just a specific area. This means that they can choose to send me to any part of the hospital, or indeed the community, that they want to. So across I went, with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. I decided to look on the bright side, and see it as a learning opportunity. Unfortunately, by the time I was asked to go onto the ward, it was 08:30, which meant that I was half an hour behind in getting things done on the ward. I dislike being on the backfoot. It is nearly always impossible to catch up.

The morning was manic. But we were coping. The CSW I was working with asked me to pop in as a patient was looking unwell. She reported feeling unwell but was very pale. I couldn't get a saturation reading. And then she stopped responding. I immediately asked for a non-rebreath mask on 15L O2 and for the emergency bell to go on. At this stage, I was thinking she had had a vasovagal syncope. We deal with that all the time on frailty - older patients are prone to postural hypotension.

By the time we got the patient on the bed, she had stopped breathing. We commenced CPR. There were so many people milling about, on standby, ready to help. Donning the correct PPE for a CPR procedure. It felt like almost immediately that the consultant told us to stop.

I couldn't stop shaking. I felt in complete shock. Earlier that morning I had been laughing and joking with the patient. Talking about how much she wanted to get home. The only comfort I have been able to take is that we made her morning as comfortable as possible and that when the end did come...it was quick. But that same quick end also shocked and terrified me. To the point I have been trying not to think about it since then. It has taken me the best part of a week to be able to reflect on it. When I went for a walk today I thought about her and hoped that her family have the strength they need at this time.

I was in work again the next day. The day was mad. Again. I was moved from the clinic to the ward, and then to the next ward, and then back again. No staff. Again. In this process I had lost the whole morning. I ended up staying an hour late to complete my clinical notes. Another hour gifted to the NHS. Not to mention the panic attack I had partway through the evening. The first one I have had in over 5 years. The sheer terror I felt at being unable to do my job. The feeling of not being able to breathe because I couldn't see a way forward.

These two shifts completely took it out of me. I spent the next 3 days completely fatigued and burnt out. For 2 days I couldn't get out of bed. I kept thinking I couldn't do my job. That I was useless and shouldn't bother. I cried for 3 days.

My next shift is a night shift. And I am dreading going back after the week I have had.

The only way forward I know is to plan. To make lists. To work things out ahead of time. So. I am going to make more lists. And I am going to do my best to help other people who might be feeling the way I did. I'm going to make a wellbeing board, and consider myself a "wellbeing champion" for the ward.

I will keep fighting.