That patient died today. At 5:45am the patient was pronounced dead. I thought I did my best to save her but then I start asking myself if I really did. The significant other seemed indifferent but I wanted so much to fight for the patient. I feel dazed and very guilty. Maybe I didn’t do enough to save her. Now I’m from a graveyard shift and I can’t afford to close my eyes. Because I’m scared. I’m afraid to get a call demanding explanation. I’m afraid it was really all my fault. I guess I would never want to be a nurse again. Because I’m scared of the instability of patients’ conditions. Or that I am never good enough to take care of them. Long breathe. Darn. I can’t sleep. Can’t even think of it. I feel too guilty.
Before I started my bath today, I sat on the first step of the stairs and leaned against the wall to the bathroom. I stared at the wall directly in front of me. It was a half-finished white wall. And I was closely aware that I was alone inside the house. And I just felt too vulnerable. And I wondered: How did I get to this? Going to work I realize too late that I do not even want? Will I ever learn to adjust…to life?