Abstract
[This is an excerpt.] At the beginning of April 2020, the COVID-19 pandemic burned me out. I was ready to quit nursing. I wanted to run as far away as I could, away from dying patients, away from the heartaches. I remember waking up in bed, physically drained from a fitful sleep, emotionally shattered by the friends and the patients we lost. I debated calling out sick that morning just because I dreaded hearing the frequent overhead pages for the code team. The apex of this pandemic that we were preparing for came much too early. Physicians, nurses, and technicians were running around responding to calls for intubations, desperately trying to race against time. We were all covered from head to toe with impervious gowns, face shields, double gloves, boots, and surgical caps; the N95 masks would later leave marks on our faces. The scars in our hearts were unseen, and post-traumatic stress disorder, a real threat. We were protected, we assured ourselves, but how could you be confident about how safe you are when the COVID-19 fatalities keep on rising? The whole hospital (and all of New York City) was in a pandemic chokehold. [To read more, click View Resource.]
