A Tale of Bed Alarms, Blankets, and Where the Heck Did They Go?
As a med-surg nurse, I’ve mastered many skills: titrating IV meds, managing post-op patients, and delivering meds with ninja-like precision. But there’s one challenge that tests me every shift…Finding. My. CNA.
The Beginning of the Shift
The shift started like any other: the board was full, one admit pending, three patients on hourly pain meds, and at least two with an apparent vendetta against their bed alarms. I glanced at the assignment sheet—my CNA for the night was a reliable one. Perfect, I thought. Tonight, will be smooth.
Oh, how naïve I was.
The Disappearing Act Begins
It started with a simple request:
"Can I get help turning my patient in 302?"
No answer.
Taps Vocera again.
"Hey, are you nearby?"
Static. Silence. Ghosted.
I checked the break room. Empty. The linen closet? Nope. The supply room? Just a lone, slightly judgmental Glucagon box staring back at me.
Where was my CNA?
The Search Party
Cue the nurse scavenger hunt. I began checking every possible CNA hiding spot like I was playing a hospital-themed version of Where’s Waldo. Every few steps, a bed alarm went off, as if the patients themselves were sounding the alert: “She’s not here either!”
Eventually, I found her—buried chest-deep in linens, untangling a mountain of fitted sheets like she was on a game show timed challenge.
She popped her head up and said, “I swear I was only going in for one blanket.”
Sure, you were.
The Night Continues
Later in the shift, I needed help again—transferring a patient from a bedside commode. The CNA? MIA. She had been drafted by another nurse who offered her snacks in exchange for turning all five patients. Honestly? Fair trade.
It’s not that CNAs aren’t doing their jobs—they are. In fact, they’re usually doing everyone’s job at once, caught between helping five nurses, ten patients, and a broken vital signs machine that keeps screaming in binary.
Final Thought
Med-surg wouldn’t survive without our CNAs, even when they seem to disappear like magician’s assistants. One moment they’re beside you, and the next they’re delivering supplies, cleaning up spills, and getting roped into turning every patient on the unit.
So, here’s to our CNAs: may your break room be peaceful, your linens be stocked, and your nurses stop shouting your name every five minutes (…okay, maybe just every ten).
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