Ah, the sweet, sweet relief of having the same patients from the previous night. If you’re a nurse, you know what a win that is—no surprises, no frantic “who’s this new person in room 7,” just your usual crew and a sense of routine. And last night? It was pretty good. Well… mostly.

Let me introduce you to the star of the show: my Hyperverbal Patient. Yes, the one with the arm infection and the gift of gab—who talks so much that even a game show host would ask for a break. Now, I’ve got a lot of patience (you kind of have to in this job), but last night, this patient really tested my limits.

The night started out well, but it wasn’t long before my Hyperverbal friend started making regular appearances at the nurses' station, like it was some sort of social gathering. Their main topic of conversation? The IV. Specifically, the one in their arm that, according to them, had infiltrated. Naturally, I checked it. And guess what? It was perfectly fine.

But nope, Hyperverbal was convinced that their IV had gone rogue, and after about the fifth trip to the station, I gave in. Fine. New IV it is. After all, who am I to argue with someone who seems to have a PhD in IV Drama?

What followed was a three-person, ultrasound-guided IV insertion event. Yes, THREE people and a high-tech ultrasound were needed to place this thing. You’d think we were prepping for some sort of high-stakes surgery instead of just running the Vancomycin that was due. But hey, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it in style, right?

Meanwhile, my other patients? Angels. Not a peep out of them. They were perfectly content, following their routines, and honestly, probably wondering what all the commotion was about. Thank you, sweet patient angels, for not needing ultrasound-guided anything.

By the time I finally got through the night, I was clinging to the knowledge that it was my Friday. And boy, did I need that light at the end of the tunnel. I barely made it through with my sanity intact, but I did make it—mostly thanks to my non-hyperverbal patients who were on their best behavior. My patience is solid, but there’s only so much IV drama and non-stop chatter one nurse can handle in a single shift.

So, here’s to my weekend! A well-deserved break before I go back and face the next round of Hyperverbal Hijinks. Until next time, may your IVs stay intact, your patients be angels, and your sanity remain in one piece (or close enough).

Night Shift Chronicles: Same Patients, Potluck Vibes, and a New Hyperverbal Challenge

Well, folks, last night was a rollercoaster of emotions—and calories. First off, the good news: I didn’t float! (Cue the happy dance.) Even better, I had most of the same patients, which, if you’re a nurse, you know is a blessing. There’s nothing like getting into a groove with your patients, knowing their quirks, routines, and how they like their pillows fluffed. It was all going so well… until it wasn’t.

Our beloved knee replacement patient got discharged early in the day. I waved goodbye to their bionic glory, thinking, “This is going to be a smooth night.” Famous last words, right? Because, of course, I got a new admit: a young patient with an arm infection and a history of drug abuse. Not the most cooperative patient, to put it mildly. This one was hyperverbal—and I mean, talks a mile a minute, interrupts themselves, and then goes back to the first topic kind of hyperverbal. Let’s just say, it added a new layer to my night.

But let me back up to the good part before we dive into that chaos: the potluck. Yes, we had a potluck for one of our favorite travelers, and let me tell you, it was legendary. Fried chicken, teriyaki chicken, noodles, pizza, desserts—you name it, we had it. And, naturally, we all ate like it was our last meal before a night shift apocalypse. It was a feast fit for, well, exhausted night shift warriors.

Cue the food itis. If you’ve never experienced it, let me explain: it’s that overwhelming need to lie down and nap immediately after eating way too much. By 3 a.m., the whole unit was dragging, like we had cement blocks strapped to our shoes. We were all coming down from the glorious food high and regretting nothing—except maybe not grabbing a second slice of pizza.

And just as we were all trying to power through our collective food coma, I had my new admit to deal with: the young, hyperverbal patient with the arm infection. Now, I’m all for a good conversation, but this one was non-stop. I think I learned everything about their life, their favorite cereal, and why they think aliens might be real. (Spoiler alert: they do.) Not exactly an easy patient, but hey, that’s part of the job. You roll with it and smile through the chaos.

All things considered, the night wasn’t too bad. I made it through, despite the food itis and the endless monologue from my new patient. Sure, they weren’t the best patient, but they were certainly… memorable. At least I didn’t have to float, so I’m counting it as a win!

Until next time, remember: avoid the potluck food coma, brace yourself for the occasional hyperverbal patient, and never underestimate the power of a good routine with your patients. Here’s to hoping for another night like this—minus the alien theories and food comas, of course!

Ah, night shift—where it starts busy, settles into routine, and somehow manages to get me thinking about the next shift before the current one is even done. My night was buzzing at the start, but once things calmed down, it was mainly about pain medication control and hoping the snack machine didn’t act up again. I had a pretty solid crew of patients, with one being admitted right after shift change (naturally), and—bonus!—two of them had their significant others stay the night, which was a game-changer.

Having family support is huge. For Ms. “I’ve Had Enough” (colorectal cancer) and my latecomer Mr. “I Need an ERCP,” their partners were a real help. Not only did they provide much-needed emotional support, but they also took care of those little things—like adjusting pillows and grabbing water—that make a world of difference. I’m not saying they deserve honorary nurse badges, but I’m also not not saying it.

And speaking of bonuses, you know what else was amazing? I wasn’t the break nurse, and I didn’t float to another unit! No running around unfamiliar halls, no frantic searching for supplies that I’m sure only exist in a parallel universe. I got to stay put and work with my own patients. It was glorious. But the next night… Oh, the next night was looking dicey. There was a lot of staff scheduled, which meant the dreaded f-word: float. My anxiety kicked in full throttle.

The whole morning after my shift, I was on edge. Floating is my least favorite thing. There’s something about stepping onto a different unit that turns me into a bundle of nerves. It’s like being a guest star on someone else’s show—you don’t know their routines, their patients, or where the heck they keep the extra blankets. The mere thought of it had me so nervous, I barely slept. I kept wondering, Should I call in? Should I not call in? The struggle is real. Seriously, it’s not just the floating itself—it’s the anxiety that leads up to it. It’s the unknown.

But enough about that. Let’s get back to the night that actually went well.

Patient 1: Mr. New Knee (Total Knee Replacement)

First on the roster was Mr. “Fresh Knee.” He had a Total Knee Replacement and was already plotting how to out-walk everyone else on the unit. His pain control was the focus of my night, making sure he didn’t get too ambitious before his leg was ready to cooperate.

Patient 2: Ms. I’ve Had Enough (Colorectal Cancer)

Ms. “I’ve Had Enough” had Colorectal Cancer and was done with treatment. She was incredibly at peace with her decision and even more so with her partner by her side for the night. It made managing her care so much easier knowing she had that extra support. I could focus on making her comfortable instead of running back and forth for small things.

Patient 3: Mr. Ouch! (Sickle Cell Crisis)

Mr. “Everything Hurts” was dealing with a Sickle Cell Crisis, which is all about pain control and hydration—two things that make a huge difference in how these patients feel. He wasn’t a fan of water, but we got there eventually, one cup at a time.

Patient 3.5: The Latecomer (ERCP for Cholangitis)

The 0.5 patient, my post-shift-change surprise, had Cholangitis and needed an ERCP. His significant other stayed the night too, which made a big difference in keeping things calm. They handled the little things while I got him settled with all the admission paperwork and made sure he was comfortable.

Special Guest Star: The "Poopoo Butt" Patient

Oh, and how could I forget? Somewhere in the middle of my pain management marathon, there was another star in this shift—let’s call them the “Poopoo Butt” patient. Why? Because they graced one of my fellow nurses with the nickname “poopoo butt.” Yep, that happened. Now, I’m not saying this is the most endearing term of affection I’ve ever heard, but hey, night shift is full of surprises. It’s certainly not a term you’ll find on a Hallmark card.

Overall, it was a busy but manageable night, filled with the usual hustle and bustle of meds, vitals, and paperwork. But the real challenge wasn’t even the patients—it was the looming threat of floating next shift. I barely slept, tossing and turning over whether I should just call in or tough it out. Because let’s be real—floating to another unit gives me major anxiety. I’ve got my routine here, my flow, and the idea of stepping into an unfamiliar unit makes my brain go into overdrive.

But hey, I made it through the night in one piece. Whether I float tomorrow or not? That’s a problem for future me. Until then, I’ll be over here hoping for another smooth shift (and maybe a nap).

Educational Sidebar: What Did We Learn?

• Total Knee Replacement: Surgery that replaces a damaged knee joint with prosthetic parts. Helps patients regain mobility but requires careful pain management post-op.
• Colorectal Cancer: A cancer that affects the colon or rectum. Some patients, like Ms. “I’ve Had Enough,” choose to focus on quality of life over further treatment.
• Sickle Cell Crisis: A painful episode caused by misshapen red blood cells, treated with pain control and hydration.
• Cholangitis and ERCP: Infection of the bile ducts, requiring an ERCP procedure to diagnose and treat the blockage.

So, the shift was a win, and even though floating anxiety looms over my head like a dark cloud, I’m going to face it with coffee in hand and a "we’ll see what happens" attitude. Stay tuned for the next chapter in my night shift chronicles, and wish me luck that floating isn’t in the cards!

Another night, another shift on the med-surg floor. And guess what? It was a familiar bunch of patients. You know, like a rerun of your favorite show, except this time it’s not as fun because no one ever laughs at my jokes, and instead of a sitcom, it’s more like a reality show where I’m the star, the cameraman, and the set crew.

So let me introduce the night’s cast of characters:

The Return of the Hip Surgery and the Confused Patient

If you’ve been following my adventures (and why wouldn’t you be?), you’ll remember the hip surgery patient and our favorite confused individual from my previous shifts. They had been moved down to the med-surg floor for the weekend because, apparently, the surgical floor is like a trendy restaurant—open Monday through Friday, but come the weekend, they’re closed for business. The surgical unit often shuts down because there aren’t enough surgeries scheduled to justify keeping it open. So, lucky me, I got the dynamic duo again.

The hip surgery patient? Still odd but manageable. A few quirky requests here and there, but nothing that I haven’t handled before. Now, the confused patient? Oh boy, we picked up right where we left off like they hadn’t missed a beat. Still trying to get out of bed at every opportunity, still giving me that “why are you stopping me from doing whatever this is?” look every time I have to redirect them back to safety. It’s like an endless game of “Where do you think you’re going?”

The Frequent Flyer Princess: Royalty Has Arrived

Next up, we have patient number three, a frequent flyer who I’ve had the pleasure (sarcasm, by the way) of caring for before. Now, this patient? Let’s just say they have certain expectations—and by expectations, I mean they treat the nurses and CNAs like waitstaff. “Can you fetch me some water? No, no, not in that cup, in the other cup.” “Can you fluff my pillows? No, that’s not quite right, fluff them again.” It’s like they think we’re starring in some hospital version of a 5-star resort where the room service never sleeps. Spoiler: We do, in fact, sleep. Or at least, we try to. I’m telling you, it was more time-consuming trying to cater to this patient’s royal whims than it was to care for the other three combined.

Lap Chole Patient: The New Kid on the Block

Then there’s the fourth patient—fresh out of surgery after a lap chole. For those unfamiliar with hospital lingo, a lap chole is short for laparoscopic cholecystectomy, which is a fancy way of saying they had their gallbladder removed using small incisions and a camera. It’s a pretty common surgery, especially for those with gallstones or other gallbladder issues. Think of it as the gallbladder’s eviction notice, and out it goes. This patient was actually super chill. In fact, they were the most laid-back person of the night. No outrageous demands, no confusion. Just resting and healing like a proper patient. Bless them.

The CNA Who Did Just Enough to Look Busy

Now, let me tell you about the real wild card of the night: the CNA. Have you ever worked with someone who somehow manages to do just enough to make it look like they’re working, but in reality, they’re practically invisible? Yeah, that was my CNA last night. If you checked the charting, you’d see my name popping up left and right for every toileting event. And theirs? Well, you’d be hard-pressed to find a single record. I’m talking zero patient toileting. Nada. Zilch.

It was like they mastered the art of appearing busy while doing... well, nothing. I swear, the break nurse assisted me more than this CNA did. The break nurse! They’re supposed to be off helping others take breaks, not doing the bulk of the CNA’s job. Yet, there they were, stepping in left and right to help me out while my assigned CNA? Probably perfecting the art of looking at their phone while standing in a corner somewhere.

Manageable but Busy

So, how was the night overall? Well, it was busy but, somehow, still manageable. It wasn’t like I was drowning (though with the toileting situation, it sometimes felt like I was), but the constant shuffle between the hip surgery patient, the confused wanderer, the princess, and the lap chole patient kept me on my toes. I didn’t even have time to properly enjoy the fact that I wasn’t a break nurse or floated to another unit, which is a small victory in itself, considering my luck.

The Nursing Reality Check

Now, I know some of you reading this might be aspiring nurses. Let me just be straight with you—nursing isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, and it’s definitely not some glamorous, Instagram-worthy job where we spend our days saving lives and getting showered in gratitude. Sometimes it’s about being a glorified pillow-fluffer, a human call bell, and (occasionally) a private investigator trying to track down your CNA.

But, in all seriousness, nursing has its moments of purpose. Even on the crazy nights when it feels like you’re playing every role in the hospital, there’s something rewarding about it. I may have to deal with a few princesses, and a confused patient or two, but when I leave my shift, I know I made a difference—no matter how chaotic things get.

And speaking of making a difference, I’m also working on something that might help nurses, both new and experienced. Yep, my website is still a work in progress, but I’m hoping it’ll be a place where fellow nurses can find tips, support, and maybe even a few laughs along the way.

So, until the next shift, I’ll be over here, mentally preparing for the next adventure on the med-surg floor. May your shifts be smooth, your CNAs proactive, and your confused patients slightly less confused.

Ah, the surgical floor. Some nights, it's quiet enough to hear a pin drop. Other nights, it feels like you're running a marathon in quicksand. Last night was one of those in-between nights—busy, yes, but manageable (thankfully). I had four patients, and each brought their own unique charm. Let’s break down the cast of characters, shall we?

The Paraplegic: My Frequent Flyer

First, we have the paraplegic. If you’ve ever worked with a paraplegic patient, you know they require quite a bit of repositioning and assistance. It's like a full-body workout in scrubs. This patient, bless their heart, needed almost constant attention, and I spent a good portion of the night hoisting, shifting, adjusting, and making sure they were comfortable. Between the bed lifts and repositioning, I’m pretty sure I burned enough calories to skip leg day at the gym for a week. But hey, it’s all part of the job, right?

The Behavioral Wild Card: Confusion and Chaos

Then there was the behavioral patient, who, let’s just say, didn’t exactly have "following directions" on their to-do list. This one was confused, restless, and about as cooperative as a cat at bath time. Every time I turned around, they were doing something creative—getting out of bed, ignoring alarms, trying to wander. At one point, I swear they looked at me like I was the one confused. Oh, how the tables turn. But we worked through it because as we all know, patience is key when dealing with a confused patient who thinks you’re their long-lost cousin or maybe just someone trying to steal their shoes.

The Hip Surgery Veteran: Odd but Familiar

Patient number three was a return visitor to the floor. Back for their second hip surgery, this patient had a quirky side—let's call it "charmingly odd." They knew the floor like the back of their hand and had a few, uh, peculiar requests throughout the night. At least they were familiar, though. Sometimes those quirky patients become like regulars at a diner—you know their order, their quirks, and what they like to talk about at 2 a.m. Even if that means hearing about their love for crocheting while you check their vitals.

The Former Nurse: Shoulder Surgery and Sweetness

And then there was patient number four, admitted a few hours after shift change—a former nurse who had just undergone shoulder surgery. Let me tell you, this patient was a dream. Sweet, understanding, and the kind of person you wish all patients could be. Plus, being a former nurse, they totally got it. They didn’t ring the call light for every little thing and even threw out a few “I’ve been there” nods when things got hectic. It’s always a treat when you get a patient who knows exactly what you're going through. Honestly, they were the ones who helped me keep my sanity intact during the crazier moments of the night.

The Verdict: A Good Night, But Not Without Challenges

So yes, it was a busy night. Between repositioning the paraplegic and playing “What are you doing now?” with the confused patient, there wasn’t much time to catch my breath. But hey, at least I wasn’t the break nurse! Trust me, being the break nurse is a whole different ballgame that I’m glad to sit out from time to time. And I wasn’t floated to another unit either, which, given my luck, is a small victory in itself. That said, if I had my way, I’d probably have been back on the med-surg floor instead. I know, I know—some of you are probably rolling your eyes and thinking, “At least you were in your home department!” But look, just because I’m on the home floor doesn’t mean it’s a walk in the park.

There are some... interesting dynamics here on the surgical floor. You know, the ones where certain people seem to get a little more favorable assignments, while others (read: me) get the paraplegic and confused patients. I get it, everyone has their days, but sometimes it feels like there's a little bit of favoritism in the air, and let’s just say I’m not exactly getting the red carpet rolled out for me.

Nursing: It’s Not Always Glorious, But It Has Purpose

To all the aspiring nurses out there (yes, I see you), I won’t sugarcoat it. Nursing can be rough. It's not all about saving lives in dramatic TV show moments or endless thank-you cards from grateful patients. Sometimes it’s repositioning patients for the 20th time or trying to figure out why Mr. Confused thinks you're stealing his shoes. It’s hard work, emotionally draining, and sometimes you wonder why you do it at all.

But in those quiet moments—like when the former nurse thanks you for your care or when a patient finally gets comfortable after hours of adjusting—you remember why you’re here. It gives you purpose. It’s one of the few jobs where you leave knowing that you made a tangible difference, even if it was a long, exhausting night.

That’s also why I started my website—to help new and aspiring nurses navigate this wild, wonderful, and sometimes utterly chaotic career. It’s still a work in progress (like me), but I’m hoping it will become a resource for nurses at every stage. Because, trust me, we’re all in this together.

Until next time, fellow night warriors, may your shifts be smooth, your patients be kind, and your coffee be strong.

October 9th, and there I was, nervously getting ready for work, mentally prepping myself for the unknown. Would I stay on my home unit, or would I be the unlucky soul chosen to float? Ah, the joys of not knowing your fate until you walk through those hospital doors. It’s like playing Russian roulette, except instead of a bullet, you could end up in the ICU or the pediatric floor with zero clue what's going on. Thrilling, right?

Luckily—or unluckily, depending on how you see it—I didn’t have to float. I stayed on the home floor, but here’s the kicker: I was the Break Nurse. Oh, the glorious role of the Break RN, where you roam the unit like a free spirit... but not really. Honestly, I would’ve preferred my own assignment. Being the break nurse is not exactly the highlight of my nursing career. It feels like being invited to a party only to be told, “Hey, can you watch everyone’s stuff while we dance?”

The Break Nurse Dilemma: The Unsung Hero or Easy Target?

Let’s get one thing straight: I respect the break nurse role. I do. I mean, who else is going to ensure that all the nurses get their much-needed break time? But let’s be real—some folks take advantage of the break nurse like it’s their personal assistant on wheels. It's like, “Oh hey, while you’re here giving me a break, could you just... take over this one thing... and maybe this other thing... oh, and don’t forget to catch up on that charting I’ve been ignoring.” By the time you’re done covering, you feel like you did have your own assignment, just without the satisfaction of completing it.

And don’t get me started on those who love the break nurse role. Some people treat it like a mini-vacation, a break from the chaos of having your own patients. “Oh, I love being break nurse,” they say, while sipping their third cup of coffee and leisurely strolling the halls. Meanwhile, I’m here wondering how they make it look so relaxing while I’m one step away from breaking a sweat running from room to room.

Transitioning from Night Shift: The Struggle is Real

Now, let’s talk about this night shift life, shall we? For those of you who haven’t lived it, let me paint a picture: It’s 3 a.m. Your body is screaming for sleep, the world outside is silent, and the vending machine is your only friend. I’m currently on the night shift, but I'm transitioning to day shift soon, and honestly, the struggle is real. Night shift is not for the faint of heart. It’s a whole different beast, and I’ve been wrestling with it like a confused insomniac in denial.

You see, there’s this unspoken expectation that you’ll “adjust” to night shift life eventually. Spoiler alert: not everyone adjusts. Some of us, myself included, just survive it. Managing my time has been a challenge—hello, sleep schedule, where art thou? I’m sleeping way more than I’m willing to admit. But hey, after staying up all night trying to keep people alive, you need some solid recovery time, right? I mean, who wouldn’t sleep until 3 p.m. after a night of constant alarms, patient call lights, and trying to make sure everyone’s meds are on time?

Night Shift: Not for Everyone

Let me be clear: night shift nursing is a special kind of hard. It’s not for everyone, and that’s okay. If you can thrive in the daylight, bless you. But for those of us who battle through the night, it’s a constant balancing act between staying awake, staying sane, and somehow managing to be productive. There’s something about the night shift that pushes you to your limits. The hospital is quieter, yes, but that quiet is deceptive. You never know when a calm night will turn into a chaotic symphony of patient admissions, IV beeps, and surprise emergencies.

And let’s not forget how normal people react when they hear you work nights. “Oh wow, I don’t know how you do it,” they say, wide-eyed, as if you’ve just told them you can juggle chainsaws. Well, neither do I, Susan, but here we are.

Managing My Time... Or Not

As for managing my time, well, let's just say it's a work in progress. I’ve tried everything—strict sleep schedules, blackout curtains, melatonin, sleeping upside down like a bat. Nothing works. I always feel like I’m either rushing to get to work or rushing to catch up on sleep. In fact, my bed has probably seen more of me in the past few weeks than my friends have. Social life? Who needs it when you’ve got a pillow and a blanket, am I right?

But despite all of this—despite the struggles, the exhaustion, the endless battle to stay awake—there’s something about night shift that I don’t hate. Maybe it’s the camaraderie among the night crew, or maybe it’s the strange sense of accomplishment you feel when you’ve survived yet another all-nighter. Whatever it is, I’ll keep showing up, coffee in hand, ready to take on whatever comes my way... even if it means being the break nurse again.

Until then, good night (or good morning, depending on your shift), and may your snacks be plentiful and your patients calm. ✌️

Last night was an adventure on the 6th floor—now the shiny new surgical unit that’s only open Monday through Friday. Honestly, I don’t mind working up there. It's quieter, the view is better, and for a few fleeting nights, it feels like I’ve escaped the chaos of the med-surg floor downstairs. The downside? The minute you start getting comfortable up there, they close it for the weekend, and guess what? You're thrown right back into the med-surg circus. But, for one glorious night, I was king (or queen) of the surgical floor.

The Lineup: Hip Surgeries and ICU Adventures

My night started off steady. I had three hip surgery patients, which, honestly, is the calm before the storm in hospital terms. They were your standard post-op patients, all tucked in and recovering. Nothing too wild—just some pain meds, ice packs, and the occasional "Can you help me with the TV remote?" moment. Then, in came a DKA (diabetic ketoacidosis) ICU admission. The intensity picked up a notch. This patient was in rough shape, but hey, I love a challenge! Things were moving smoothly despite the extra workload, and I was feeling like I could handle anything thrown my way.

Oh, But Then Came Patient Number Five...

Just when I was settling into my groove, I was "lucky" enough to win the prize: Patient #5. I should’ve known it was going to be interesting when I found out they came straight from the ED with a case of esophageal stenosis, supposedly for observation. Observation. Right. This patient was as hyper-verbal as they come, which is code for "talking non-stop about absolutely everything and nothing, all at once."

For those not in the know, this usually means one thing: they're probably on something. But hey, I’m not one to judge. I’m here to provide care, not ask about life choices. This patient was something else. The minute they got into the room, it was clear this “observation” would be short and sweet.

Snacks, Showers, and Orange Juice Boot Polish

First things first, they made a beeline for the snacks. And when I say snacks, I mean all the snacks. Every juice, every pudding cup, every cracker—I swear, the only thing left untouched was maybe a stray packet of salt. I guess the ED hadn't satisfied their hunger, or maybe they were just on a mission to clear out the unit's pantry.

After devouring enough snacks to fuel a small army, they announced it was time for a shower. Sure, why not? Nothing like a good rinse-off in the middle of the night. But the pièce de résistance? The grand finale? They decided to shine their boots. With orange juice. Yes, you read that right. Forget shoe polish—OJ is apparently the new high-gloss finish. I’m still not entirely sure why or how that thought occurred to them, but let me tell you, those boots were gleaming by the time they were done.

It was one of those "do I laugh or cry?" moments. On the one hand, it’s a little hard to be upset when someone’s getting that creative with beverage options. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure we’re now short a few cartons of juice, and I don't think boot shining is covered by hospital protocols.

The Grand Exit

After what felt like hours of non-stop talking (and I do mean non-stop—I think they took a breath twice, maybe), they were finally cleared to leave. Their stay was shorter than the time it took me to restock the snacks they had demolished. They came, they saw, they polished their boots, and they left just as quickly.

So, there you have it. A night on the surgical floor, where you never know if your next patient will need post-op care or just a quick snack and a shower. And while I’m not exactly thrilled to be heading back to the med-surg floor tomorrow, at least I’ll always have the memory of those shiny, orange juice-polished boots to keep me entertained.

Nights like these remind me that nursing isn’t just about healing—it’s about rolling with whatever wild ride the hospital throws your way.

Well, folks, it finally happened. I’ve been blessed—or cursed—with the role of break nurse tonight. Cue the internal groaning. The very first thing out of my charge nurse's mouth as they handed me the assignment was, “Oh, by the way, you might be floated... depending on how many patients we admit from the ER.” Seriously?! Here we go again! The joy of being the break nurse—you think you’re getting a light night of helping your colleagues rest up, only to be tossed around to whatever unit is drowning the fastest. So, yet again, I might not even get to stay on my home floor. The suspense is killing me (not really).

But guess what? Miracles do happen. I stayed in my home unit the entire night, and, whispers, I even left a little early. Don’t tell anyone, okay? For once, being the break nurse wasn’t the stress-filled, chaotic marathon I usually dread. It was actually nice. No patient assignment, no bouncing from one disaster to another—just peaceful breaks and a relatively calm night.

I even had a moment to enjoy being the break nurse, which, let me tell you, is a rare treat. Usually, being the break nurse can feel like everyone suddenly thinks you’re their personal caregiver, runner, and task-master all rolled into one. The truth is, the break nurse is only there to cover while another nurse takes a break, and whatever tasks we handle should take, like, 15 minutes max. But more often than not, it feels like I’m running an obstacle course because “Hey, you’re free, right?” is everyone’s favorite phrase.

But tonight? Tonight was different. The demands weren’t overwhelming, and there was even some downtime (shocker, I know). I helped out where I could, lent a hand to the CNA, and made sure everyone got their well-deserved breaks, all without feeling like I was sprinting through the shift.

Honestly, if more nights as the break nurse went like this, I might actually start looking forward to it. Well, that might be a bit of a stretch, but you get the idea. Anyway, all in all, a win for the break nurse team tonight. Here’s hoping for more shifts like this in the future!

Brittany H., BSN, RN

So, there I was, prepping for another night on my home unit, where I was scheduled to be (you guessed it) the break nurse. Now, if you’ve been following along, you already know how I feel about being the break nurse—it’s the role no one wants because of the dreaded possibility of getting floated. Which, of course, happened.

Just when I thought I could quietly serve my time dishing outbreaks, the hospital swooped in with their favorite game: “Where can we float Brittany tonight?” And boom—off I go to the rehab floor. And here’s the kicker: they’re advertising for another break nurse while I’m sitting there already scheduled to be one! What is that even about? Like, are we double-booking breaks now? It feels less like staffing and more like a crafty way for the hospital to play musical nurses. And somehow, I always seem to lose the game.

Now, I’d like to point out that I’m not even a fan of being the break nurse in the first place—precisely for this reason. The floating. It’s like the second you put on that break nurse hat, you’ve already written your one-way ticket to another unit, where chaos and confusion are the main attractions.

So, off to rehab I go.

For those who haven’t had the pleasure of working a shift on the rehabilitation floor, let me paint a picture: You’re lucky if there’s a CNA. It’s like finding a unicorn. On this floor, the nurses do everything. We’re talking about bathing, turning patients, assessments, passing meds, and emotionally supporting the occasional family member who has a meltdown over a knee replacement. You name it, the nurse is handling it.

Now, don’t get me wrong—having to do one assessment and some vitals isn’t bad. In fact, on a normal night, I’d probably be thankful for such a straightforward situation. But here’s the thing: I was supposed to have an easy night being the break nurse on my home unit. Instead, I’m dropped into the chaos of rehab, trying to find my footing on a floor I’ve never set foot on. It’s like walking into a foreign country with no map. And just when I thought, “Maybe this won’t be so bad,” BAM! A new admission rolls in.

Of course.

Now, normally, an admission wouldn’t be a huge deal. But this patient didn’t have any orders. Yep, you read that right. No orders. The admission nurse hadn’t even done an assessment. I just stood there, staring at the empty chart like, “This has to be some kind of joke, right?” But nope. This was real life. My peaceful, smooth night had officially gone off the rails.

Cue the internal frustration. I had to remind myself: “You’re a nurse. You’ve been through worse.” But honestly, there are moments like this where I seriously question my life choices. Should I have gone into yoga? Maybe. Should I have seen this float shift coming? Definitely not. But here I was, making the best out of a messy situation because, well, that’s what nurses do.

In the end, I survived the night. But I’ll tell you one thing—I am never signing up to be a break nurse again. Floating, new admissions without orders, no CNAs—no thanks. I’ll take my chances on my home unit, please, and thank you.

The lesson of the night: If you think being a break nurse is the easy way out, think again. You could be floated to rehab. And trust me, it’s a wild ride.

#BreakNurseStruggles #FloatedAgain #NurseLifeChaos

Brittany H., BSN, RN

On the night of the 26th, I was scheduled to be a break nurse, a role that comes with its own unique set of responsibilities and policies. For those unfamiliar, the break nurse essentially steps in to cover for other nurses while they take their required breaks. The policy is pretty straightforward: you provide patient care during the nurse's absence, ensure that nothing urgent is missed, and maintain continuity of care while giving your coworkers a well-deserved breather. It sounds easy enough, but it can actually be quite chaotic. You’re constantly bouncing from one patient assignment to another, trying to get a sense of each patient’s situation in a short window. Honestly, being the break nurse is not my favorite part of the job—it’s a lot of moving pieces, and you never quite settle into the flow.

However, on this particular night, my break nurse duties didn’t last long. I got pulled to the floor to be a 1-to-1 for a single patient. For those who don’t know, a 1-to-1 nurse is responsible for monitoring a patient who requires constant observation. It’s intense, yet paradoxically monotonous work, and it’s a role I like even less than being the break nurse.

The shift started as most do: loud, busy, and a bit chaotic. Night shifts always seem to have this frantic energy at the beginning. The floor is buzzing with activity, nurses are gathering reports from the day shift, meds need to be passed, and patients are still awake and restless. You’re juggling tasks, trying to get through the initial rush. But as the night grinds on, things start to settle down, especially after meds are passed. Eventually, the unit quiets down, and you settle into the more tedious tasks of monitoring and charting.

My patient, like many surgical patients, was sleeping off anesthesia during the first part of my shift. The night began on a relatively easy note—the report was smooth, and the patient was peacefully asleep until about midnight. Then, of course, the post-surgery “wake-up” happened, and it was all downhill from there. After sleeping off the anesthesia, patients tend to be wide awake, often for the rest of the night. My patient decided to keep the TV on, blasting Ridiculousness at full volume—thanks to being hard of hearing. Listening to clips of people falling, failing, and causing chaos on repeat at max volume was definitely not the highlight of my night. But hey, it comes with the territory, right?

This is the pattern with post-surgical patients. They’re out cold after surgery, but once that anesthesia wears off, they’re wide awake and restless. You’d think they’d be tired, but no—more often than not, they’re up and active for the remainder of the night. So, there I was, stuck in 1-to-1 purgatory, keeping a close watch while enduring endless Ridiculousness clips. That's not exactly how I envisioned my shift going, but that's nursing for you.

By the end of the night, it was quiet again, and the grind of charting and patient checks resumed. Although it wasn’t the most exciting or fulfilling shift, it was another night in the life of an RN. Sometimes you’re racing around putting out fires, and other nights you’re watching Ridiculousness on full blast. Either way, you learn to take it all in stride.

And that’s how it goes on the night shift. Every night is different, and not every night is glamorous—but it’s all part of the job.

Brittany H., BSN, RN

Hello, I’m Brittany H., BSN, RN, and I’m excited to share a bit of my journey with you. A little over a year ago, I officially became a Registered Nurse after working as a Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) for five years. The transition from LPN to RN wasn’t easy, but it was undoubtedly worth it, and I’m thrilled with the path I’ve chosen.

As an LPN, I worked the day shift, which had its own set of rhythms and challenges. However, after completing the RN Residency Program, I transitioned to the night shift when I became an RN. It was a big change, adjusting not just to new responsibilities, but to an entirely different routine. Nights bring their own unique challenges, but there’s also a quieter, more focused atmosphere that I’ve come to appreciate.

I currently work in the surgical specialties department at a busy hospital. It’s a dynamic and fast-paced environment where every shift presents new challenges and opportunities to learn. Typically, I care for 4-5 patients each night. Our patient population is diverse, but many of the cases I handle include hip fractures, abdominal surgeries, bowel obstructions, and various wounds. We’re also often an overflow unit, so patients can come to us directly from the Emergency Department. The constant flux of patient needs makes for a stimulating environment, keeping me on my toes.

But I’ll be honest: nursing isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. It can be difficult, especially when dealing with challenging patients. Whether it’s patients who are frustrated, in pain, or just having a bad day, managing their emotions while ensuring they receive the care they need requires patience, empathy, and mental toughness. There are nights when it feels like nothing is going right—when every patient has complex needs, and you can barely catch a break. Those are the times that really test your resilience as a nurse.

Dealing with difficult patients is part of the job, and it’s not something that gets easier overnight. However, I’ve learned that compassion is key. Often, what seems like anger or frustration is really fear or pain in disguise. And while it can be tough, I remind myself that, in those moments, I can make the biggest difference by staying calm, listening, and doing my best to meet their needs.

Looking back on my first year as an RN, I can say it has been a period of growth—both personally and professionally. I’m excited to continue learning, pushing boundaries, and making a difference in the lives of my patients. Whether it’s a routine check-up or an emergency, every patient deserves the best care possible, and I strive to provide that each day.

Thank you for being a part of my journey, and here’s to many more years of learning, caring, and growing as a nurse!

Brittany H., BSN, RN