Another First: CPR

I did CPR for the first time last month.

He was in his 40's.

He died.

Then I had to go on working for the next 12 hours.  It was hard.

It was harder emotionally than I expected.

Then I beat myself up about being sad about it, and that only makes me sadder.

I'm not even sure if sad is the right word for it.  Anxious?  Sure.  Mad?  I guess.  Stressed? Yeah.

I know nothing could have been done differently.  I know we the nurses and the doctors did everything we were supposed to.  I know it was a "good code with a bad outcome."

But sometimes when I close my eyes, I see him gasping for air.  I see his eyes close for the last time.  I smell his body odor on my hands.  I can feel that last pulse in my fingers.  I see asystole in that last second before I fall asleep.

Then I wonder why I do what I do.

Nursing is 85% boring repetitive work, 12% politics, and 3% absolute terror.

To those people who ask me if I like being a nurse, I do most times.  As I said to someone once, "It's not what I expected.  But it's better."

"And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul." Genesis 2:7