The first time I wanted to quit.
Within the first 2-3 years of being a nurse, I suffered from what I would learn to be Burnout.
I had only worked in very small, rural hospitals. There were very little resources, and at this particular time, a lot of responsibility fell on the RN.
I had an immense responsibility- ER patients, doctors’ rounds on the ward, checking all the charts, all IV meds for the ward patients, and after 4 pm and on night, half the ward was assigned to me.
We only had a ward clerk for 8 hours a day-so you were dealing with sick calls, doctors calls, transfers, entering orders, telephone triage, and more.
There was only an ER doctor on call, at times, they relied only on your assessments for orders, or for deciding if they would come in to see the patients or not.
Each night, when I would go to tape report at ~1945h, I would see my half-eaten lunch, still waiting to be finished.
“The story of the forgotten lunch” ended up repeating itself many times over.
This was the first job I had, where I could see so many areas that needed to be updated and improved. From simple things like organization, to more systemic problems like staffing and ratios, and I was determined I could make a difference in at least part of it.
How could nobody see how some things needed to change? (I would later learn, that recognizing immediate solutions to inefficiencies, is my ‘ADHD superpower’.)
Around this time, I started to have pretty bad back pain. I went to the gym to “strengthen my core”. I had special socks and shoes, I went for massages and acupuncture. Along with the back pain, I started having headaches. I was told by my healthcare team I needed to rest and not do anything that would strain my back too much, i.e. bending over or lifting anything.
I don’t know why I didn’t take time off work (maybe because I believed I shouldn’t, for something as minor as a sore back) but I do remember wearing a TENS machine to work, and at times, having to lean on the counter to put all my weight on my arms, because it hurt too much to stand.
I requested light duties at work. Again, I don’t remember the details, but I know I was never supernumerary. I was told to just “try not to” do the physical tasks I wasn’t able to, but was not given any tools to help me do that. I remember fighting with my manager about how I should be supernumerary. Looking back, it’s probably because I didn’t file a workplace injury (was it?) claim with WCB that they had no responsibility to help me through this.
I ended up getting better somehow, and I learned to deal with the pain.
I remember feeling like I had no voice. Like what I had to say didn’t matter. That the physical presence of my body at work was more important than the shape it was in. That the job was most important.
I remember saying no to overtime, that I didn't have a ride home if I stayed late (I had carpooled to work) - my manager gave me her brand SUV to drive home. I had thoughts of driving it into the ditch.
I remember thinking that I didn’t want to be a nurse anymore. Only a few years of working in toxic environments and I didn’t really care for it. Physiotherapy sounded good. Massage therapist. Entrepreneur. Housecleaner, bookkeeper. I was looking at all possibilities.
But I didn’t quit. I still had $x0,000 in loans to pay off. And none of these jobs paid anything near what I was making as a nurse. (Not saying I had a lot of money- I sure didn’t.)
During this time, my romantic relationship was feeling the effects of my unhappiness and frustration with my job. My partner at the time never worked in healthcare, and just didn’t get it. I received no empathy, or even sympathy.
I felt like if I talked to too many people about how I felt, I would seem ungrateful for a chance to have this good job, good pay, pension, benefits, etc.
So I did the only thing I knew how. I told myself I could do it. That I was needed. That this was my calling, my purpose, to HELP.
I remember the intense feelings I felt, All. The. Time.
The feeling that I could never do enough, so I must do everything I could. I remember having a panic attack on the way home from work one night. I couldn’t stop crying. I was hyperventilating. I had a thought of driving my car off the road. I thought, “Would anyone listen to me then?”
Then there was the times I was so exhausted coming home I would be swerving, catching myself on the opposite side of the road. One time it was too late, and I really did hit the ditch. I fell asleep on the steering wheel waiting for help to get pulled out. I woke up to someone rapping on my window, likely thinking the worst. All I remember saying was, "I'm just so tired."
I ended up being (re-) diagnosed with depression, and was put on medication. Soon after, I moved to the city and had a new job- my 'dream job'.
That must have worked because I didn’t have this career-hating feelings as strongly for a few more years.
If you are experiencing signs of burnout, please, reach out for help. Talk to a trusted supervisor, your Employee Assistance Program, myself or someone else about what you are experiencing. Burnout and Vicarious Trauma do not get better on its own.
To determine if you are experiencing burnout or vicarious trauma (or at high risk), take the self assessment here:
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