Trauma Nurse Quotes

In these days before antiseptics, doctors themselves also suffered high mortality rates. Florence Nightingale, a nurse during the Crimean War (1853-1856), watched one particularly inept surgeon cut both himself and, somehow, a bystander while blundering about during an amputation. Both men contracted an infection and died, as did the patient. Nightingale commented that it was the only surgery she'd ever seen with 300 percent mortality.

Many survivors have such profound deficiencies in self-protection that they can barely imagine themselves in a position of agency or choice. The idea of saying no to the emotional demands of a parent, spouse, lover or authority figure may be practically inconceivable. Thus, it is not uncommon to find adult survivors who continue to minister to the needs of those who once abused them and who continue to permit major intrusions without boundaries or limits. Adult survivors may nurse their abusers in illness, defend them in adversity, and even, in extreme cases, continue to submit to their sexual demands.

Girl, I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m a nurse and if you don’t go home with Tall, Dark, and Tight Crotch, I’m gonna check you for head trauma.” The man next to her nodded. “I’m her husband, and even I think Suit Guy is fucking hot.” “Noted,” I said.

Jenny couldn't believe herself a multiple. She was a mother, a nurse, not that screwball who appeared on the screen like some dysfunctional figment of her imagination trying to find a life. Still, she was coming to a realization that accepting who she was would be the jailer's key to liberate her from this cuckoo's nest.

It was Freud's ambition to discover the cause of hysteria, the archetypal female neurosis of his time. In his early investigations, he gained the trust and confidence of many women, who revealed their troubles to him.Time after time, Freud's patients, women from prosperous, conventional families, unburdened painful memories of childhood sexual encounters with men they had trusted: family friends, relatives, and fathers. Freud initially believed his patients and recognized the significance of their confessions. In 1896, with the publication of two works, The Aetiology of Hysteria and Studies on Hysteria, he announced that he had solved the mystery of the female neurosis. At the origin of every case of hysteria, Freud asserted, was a childhood sexual trauma. But Freud was never comfortable with this discovery, because of what it implied about the behavior of respectable family men. If his patients' reports were true, incest was not a rare abuse, confined to the poor and the mentally defective, but was endemic to the patriarchal family. Recognizing the implicit challenge to patriarchal values, Freud refused to identify fathers publicly as sexual aggressors. Though in his private correspondence he cited "seduction by the father" as the "essential point" in hysteria, he was never able to bring himself to make this statement in public. Scrupulously honest and courageous in other respects, Freud falsified his incest cases. In The Aetiology of Hysteria, Freud implausibly identified governessss, nurses, maids, and children of both sexes as the offenders. In Studies in Hysteria, he managed to name an uncle as the seducer in two cases. Many years later, Freud acknowledged that the "uncles" who had molested Rosaslia and Katharina were in fact their fathers. Though he had shown little reluctance to shock prudish sensibilities in other matters, Freud claimed that "discretion" had led him to suppress this essential information. Even though Freud had gone to such lengths to avoid publicly inculpating fathers, he remained so distressed by his seduction theory that within a year he repudiated it entirely. He concluded that his patients' numerous reports of sexual abuse were untrue. This conclusion was based not on any new evidence from patients, but rather on Freud's own growing unwillingness to believe that licentious behavior on the part of fathers could be so widespread. His correspondence of the period revealed that he was particularly troubled by awareness of his own incestuous wishes toward his daughter, and by suspicions of his father, who had died recently. p9-10

I have seen a lot of ugly things as a trainee and as a nurse, but they don't bother me very much. It's not that the familiarity hardens one; it is rather that one learns the knack of channelling one's emotions around the ugly thing.

It was getting late, but sleep was the furthest thing from my racing mind. Apparently that was not the case for Mr. Sugar Buns. He lay back, closed his eyes, and threw an arm over his forehead, his favorite sleeping position. I could hardly have that. So, I crawled on top of him and started chest compressions. It seemed like the right thing to do. "What are you doing?" he asked without removing his arm. "Giving you CPR." I pressed into his chest, trying not to lose count. Wearing a red-and-black football jersey and boxers that read, DRIVERS WANTED. SEE INSIDE FOR DETAILS, I'd straddled him and now worked furiously to save his life, my focus like that of a seasoned trauma nurse. Or a seasoned pot roast. It was hard to say. "I'm not sure I'm in the market," he said, his voice smooth and filled with a humor I found appalling. He clearly didn't appreciate my dedication. "Damn it, man! I'm trying to save your life! Don't interrupt." A sensuous grin slid across his face. He tucked his arms behind his head while I worked. I finished my count, leaned down, put my lips on his, and blew. He laughed softly, the sound rumbling from his chest, deep and sexy, as he took my breath into his lungs. That part down, I went back to counting chest compressions. "Don't you die on me!" And praying. After another round, he asked, "Am I going to make it?" "It's touch-and-go. I'm going to have to bring out the defibrillator." "We have a defibrillator?" he asked, quirking a brow, clearly impressed. I reached for my phone. "I have an app. Hold on." As I punched buttons, I realized a major flaw in my plan. I needed a second phone. I could hardly shock him with only one paddle. I reached over and grabbed his phone as well. Started punching buttons. Rolled my eyes. "You don't have the app," I said from between clenched teeth. "I had no idea smartphones were so versatile." "I'll just have to download it. It'll just take a sec." "Do I have that long?" Humor sparkled in his eyes as he waited for me to find the app. I'd forgotten the name of it, so I had to go back to my phone, then back to his, then do a search, then download, then install it, all while my patient lay dying. Did no one understand that seconds counted? "Got it!" I said at last. I pressed one phone to his chest and one to the side of his rib cage like they did in the movies, and yelled, "Clear!" Granted, I didn't get off him or anything as the electrical charge riddled his body, slammed his heart into action, and probably scorched his skin. Or that was my hope, anyway. He handled it well. One corner of his mouth twitched, but that was about it. He was such a trouper. After two more jolts of electricity--it had to be done--I leaned forward and pressed my fingertips to his throat. "Well?" he asked after a tense moment. I released a ragged sigh of relief,and my shoulders fell forward in exhaustion. "You're going to be okay, Mr. Farrow." Without warning, my patient pulled me into his arms and rolled me over, pinning me to the bed with his considerable weight and burying his face in my hair. It was a miracle!

I was surprised and alarmed by the satisfaction I sometimes felt after I’d wrestled a patient to the floor so a nurse could give an injection, and I gradually realized how much of our professional training was geared to helping us stay in control in the face of terrifying and confusing realities.

I know I will always be a nurse. My roots in nursing are strong and deep.

If you want to shave your legs, a nurse or orderly has to be present, but no one wants that, and so our legs are like hairy-boy legs.

It’s called post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s a bit controversial, they haven’t added it to the APA manual yet, but we’re seeing similar symptoms in your fellow vets. What you’re experiencing is a familiar response to trauma.” “I didn’t see combat.” “Frankie, you were a surgical nurse in the Central Highlands.” She nodded. “And you think you didn’t see combat?” “My … Rye … was a POW. Tortured. Kept in the dark for years. He’s fine.” Henry leaned forward. “War trauma isn’t a competitive sport. Nor is it one-size-fits-all. The POWs are a particular group, as well. They came home to a different world than you did. They were treated like the World

Once the fear took hold, I was fucked. I'd never known anything like it could exist: all-consuming, ravenous, a whirling black vortex that sucked me under so completely and mercilessly that it truly felt like I was being devoured alive, bones splintered, marrow sucked. After an eternity (lying in bed with my heart jackhammering, adrenaline firing me like a strobe light, feeling the last few threads that held my mind together stretch to a snapping point) something would happen to break the vortex's hold—a nurse coming in so that I had to make mechanical cheerful chitchat, an uncontrollable rush of sleep—and I would clamber up out of it, shaky and weak as a half-drowned animal. But even when the fear receded for a while, it was always there: dark, misshapen, taloned, hanging somewhere above and behind me, waiting for its next moment to drop onto my back and dig in deep.

She was convinced that men didn’t give a damn about other people’s feelings and that they got away with whatever they wanted. Women couldn’t be trusted either. They were too weak to stand up for themselves, and they’d sell their bodies to get men to take care of them. If you were in trouble, they wouldn’t lift a finger to help you. This worldview manifested itself in the way Marilyn approached her colleagues at work: She was suspicious of the motives of anyone who was kind to her and called them on the slightest deviation from the nursing regulations. As for herself: She was a bad seed, a fundamentally toxic person who made bad things happen to those around her.

Homicide detectives know it as well. Emergency room nurses, paramedics—they all know the dirty little secret: It doesn’t get any easier. In fact, it lives in you. Every trauma, every horrible sight, every senseless death, every feral, blood-soaked act of violence in the name of self-preservation—they all accumulate like silt at the bottom of a person’s heart until the weight is unbearable.

Without direction, the respiratory technician goes to the head of the bed. She takes the tubing, attaches it to the oxygen, and turns it on as high as it will go. She provides a seal with her hand cupped over the plastic mask, over the nose and mouth of the toddler, and methodically provides oxygenated air. Doyle’s tiny chest rises and falls while I listen with my stethoscope. I am reaching for another breathing tube. “Fib!” Dr. Pedras feels for a pulse while another places gelled pads on her chest.

In the early 1970s, racial and gender discrimination was still prevalent. The easy camaraderie prevailing in the operating room evaporated at the completion of surgical procedures. There was an unspoken pecking order of seating arrangements at lunch among my fellow physicians. At the top were the white male 'primary producers' in prestigious surgical specialties. They were followed by the internists. Next came the general practitioners. Last on the list were the hospital-based physicians: the radiologists, pathologists and anaesthesiologists - especially non-white, female ones like me. Apart from colour, we were shunned because we did not bring in patients ourselves but, like vultures, lived off the patients generated by other doctors. We were also resented because being hospital-based and not having to rent office space or hire nursing staff, we had low overheads. Since a physician's number of admissions to the hospital and referral pattern determined the degree of attention and regard accorded by colleagues, it was safe for our peers to ignore us and target those in position to send over income-producing referrals. This attitude was mirrored from the board of directors all the way down to the orderlies.

On a global scale, the international diaspora of Filipinos must be seen in the context of our search for a home. For many, the economic conditions of the Philippines can hardly be called home—pushing hundreds of thousands of men and women (primarily) to seek economic relief elsewhere in order to provide a home for the families they left behind in the Philippines. This diaspora must also be seen in the historical context of our imbalance as a result of colonialism/imperialism and the displacement of the self through negation by the master’s narratives. That this diaspora is perceived by the Philippine government as its own version of “foreign aid” is symptomatic of a consciousness that remains uncritical of its marginal situatedness. The paradox of the “colonized taking care of the colonizer” is being played out in hospitals and convalescent homes, where Filipino nurses abound; in Europe and in the United States, where Filipino nannies and domestic workers are taking care of other people’s children It is evident in Japan’s Filipino entertainers and in Denmark and Australia’s Filipino mail-order brides, who provide caretaking services, especially to men. This is the most stark and depressing legacy of colonization as a patriarchal legacy—the exploitation of women

In the early 1970s psychologist David Olds was working in a Baltimore day-care center where many of the preschoolers came from homes wracked by poverty, domestic violence, and drug abuse. Aware that only addressing the children’s problems at school was not sufficient to improve their home conditions, he started a home-visitation program in which skilled nurses helped mothers to provide a safe and stimulating environment for their children and, in the process, to imagine a better future for themselves. Twenty years later, the children of the home-visitation mothers

Many of my patients respond to stress not by noticing and naming it but by developing migraine headaches or asthma attacks.15 Sandy, a middle-aged visiting nurse, told me she’d felt terrified and lonely as a child, unseen by her alcoholic parents. She dealt with this by becoming deferential to everybody she depended on (including me, her therapist). Whenever her husband made an insensitive remark, she would come down with an asthma attack.

He feels that today he has developed a kinship with grief and trauma and nurses' asses.

In the 1960s, the only Asians at Piedmont Hills were the children of Japanese farm workers who harvested flowers and citrus and cherries. In the early ’70s, the first large wave of Vietnamese refugees arrived. This wave was composed of elites—high-powered doctors and politicians who had the economic means to escape. At first, the PHHS community loved the new Vietnamese students because they came with expensive educations and intellectual parents. They had astounding test scores and brought academic standards way up. Then in the ’80s, the boat people arrived, poor and desperate refugees who escaped with the clothes on their backs and spent time in camps in Malaysia and the Philippines. About 880,000 Vietnamese refugees were resettled in the United States between 1975 and 1997, many of them at Camp Pendleton in California. More than 180,000 Vietnamese people now live in San Jose—the biggest Vietnamese population in any city outside Vietnam. In the ’90s, a massive population of Chinese and South Asian immigrants bearing H-1B work visas arrived to take jobs as engineers in blossoming Silicon Valley. By 1998, a third of all scientists and engineers in the area had come from somewhere else. Around this time there was also a shortage of teachers and nurses in America, and so came the wave of Filipinos who emigrated to help care for our young and infirm.

I did not fear death. It was life that terrified me.

While I was in Shock Trauma unit, Mom and Dad talked to my nurse, Mike, who told them they could stay at the Ronal McDonald House, which is only one block from the hospital

In the trade, moves are known to cause “relocation trauma,” physically and emotionally, for the frail elderly person, already sick and scared, and for the adult children, who must orchestrate everything. The most dramatic example of relocation trauma occurred during Hurricane Katrina and a subsequent series of Gulf Coast storms, when long-term mortality and morbidity was significantly worse for the elders “successfully” relocated than those “sheltered in place.” In other words, those who survived by being bused out of the eye of the storm to higher ground died subsequently at rates much higher than those who remained behind. The main causes of death were twofold: deadly urinary tract infections from catheters inserted for the long bus journey; and falls, leading to broken hips and their cascade of health risks—for instance, if a previously healthy nursing home resident took a tumble while looking for the bathroom in an unfamiliar place or while wearing ill-fitting slippers borrowed after fleeing without all her own belongings.

I’m writing this so people understand who I am and I am working on my reading. I have been a healthcare & nursing recruiter for over 30 years. A while back I was injured in a softball tournament and suffered severe head trauma, actually died twice and coma for around 28 days. I was told I would have no chance to speak, read or write again plus I would suffer from short-term memory loss for the rest of my life. I have been working in healthcare business and I didn’t realize how important this industry was until my accident. It took 18 months just to speak and 2 years to learn to read and write again, ie it wasn’t easy. I have three beautiful daughters and I was given another chance to get better for them. With that being said, I believe I have done very well in my recovery. After I recovered, I realized that what I thought was so important before, really wasn’t that important at all. I have built a shelter for the homeless families and healthcare patients outside of my areas who can’t afford to stay in my city for their treatments. I would have to say that my thoughts about my shelter are right behind me raising three beautiful daughters in my life! I understand the healthcare industry very well and I am a very sufficient recruiter. I know the tools to find the right candidates for any management positions in the healthcare field, specifically in cardiovascular services. My company has continued to be successful in finding the right candidates for our clients despite the downfall of our economy.

You need to have a diploma from nursing school and be certified as a registered nurse.             Ideally, you should have at least two to three years of clinical experience as an outpatient nurse or as an emergency room nurse.             You should be certified in Basic Life Support and Advanced Cardiac Life Support (ACLS). Some cruise lines request Advanced Trauma Life Support (ATLS) certification as well.             You may need to have experience in dealing with laboratory procedures and basic x-ray procedures as there is not likely to be a lab tech or x-ray tech on duty.             You should have a background in general medicine and/or emergency medicine.             You should have past experience caring for patients in a trauma, cardiac care, emergency care, or internal medicine practice.             Because cruise liners travel to often to foreign lands and have people of all different cultures on board, you may need to have knowledge of other languages besides English.   As

Again, those who wrote about personal traumas had fewer visits to the student health center, and their improved health correlated with improved immune function, as measured by the action of T lymphocytes (natural killer cells) and other immune markers in the blood. This effect was most obvious directly after the experiment, but it could still be detected six weeks later. Writing experiments from around the world, with grade school students, nursing home residents, medical students, maximum-security prisoners, arthritis sufferers, new mothers, and rape victims, consistently show that writing about upsetting events improves physical and mental health.

You’d think. But unless he’s killing as a zombie, it’s not possible. He died that night in the hospital after somehow managing to drive him and his sister there, despite his injuries. If he drove from Delaney Grove… Hell, I don’t know how he didn’t die from the blood loss alone. The sister was beat to hell and back, stabbed multiple times, face caved in, a huge piece of glass sticking out of her. She had severe signs of sexual trauma too, but she claimed it was a car accident, just like he did. It’s noted they were too scared to speak, and the girl died later that night from complications. That’s all I could charm out of a helpful nurse without a warrant.” My hand runs over the scar on Lana’s side, even though it’s covered by her clothing. Lana is sleeping hard, not noticing the way I touch her. The glass part strikes a nerve, reminding how she’s actually come close to dying twice now.

Trauma constantly confronts us with our fragility and with man's inhumanity to man but also with our extraordinary resilience. I have been able to do this work for so long because it drew me to explore our sources of joy, creativity, meaning, and connection - all the things that make life worth living. I can't begin to imagine how I would have coped with what many of my patients have endured... and despite all their suffering many have gone on to become loving partners and parents, exemplary teachers, nurses, scientists, and artists.

Nursing is not for everyone,” Miss Perkins said. “You see every facet of life—birth, death, illness, healing, trauma, madness, despair, joy. To take all that in demands both an iron constitution and a gentle soul. That’s the type of woman we’re looking for. That’s what matters.

Girl, I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I’m a nurse and if you don’t go home with Tall, Dark, and Tight Crotch, I’m gonna check you for head trauma.

Nursing is not for everyone,” Miss Perkins said. “You see every facet of life—birth, death, illness, healing, trauma, madness, despair, joy. To take all that in demands both an iron constitution and a gentle soul.

The power of sharing our stories is a power that can change the world. Sharing our stories releases creative energy, which allows future possibilities to emerge rather than allowing untold and unexamined stories to quietly suck the life out of us by nursing unacknowledged wounds of the past.

Even though the Thirteenth Amendment in 1865 ended slavery, it left a loophole that let the dominant caste enslave people convicted of a crime. This gave the dominant caste incentive to lock up lowest-caste people for subjective offenses like loitering or vagrancy at a time when free labor was needed in a penal system that the dominant caste alone controlled. After a decade of Reconstruction, just as African-Americans were seeking entry to mainstream society, the North abandoned its oversight of the South, pulled its occupying troops out of the region, and handed power back to the former rebels, leaving the survivors of slavery at the mercy of supremacist militias nursing wounds from the war. The federal government paid reparations not to the people who had been held captive, but rather to the people who had enslaved them. The former Confederates reinscribed a mutation of slavery in the form of sharecropping and an authoritarian regime that put people who had only recently emerged from slavery into a world of lynchings, night riders, and Klansmen, terrors meant to keep them subservient. As they foreclosed the hopes of African-Americans, they erected statues and monuments everywhere to the slave-owning Confederates, a naked forewarning to the lowest caste of its subjugation and powerlessness. It was psychic trolling of the first magnitude. People still raw from the trauma of floggings and family rupture, and the descendants of those people, were now forced to live amid monuments to the men who had gone to war to keep them at the level of livestock. To enter a courthouse to stand trial in a case that they were all but certain to lose, survivors of slavery had to pass statues of Confederate soldiers looking down from literal pedestals. They had to ride on roads named after the generals of their tormenters and walk past schools named after Klansmen. Well into the twentieth century, heirs to the Confederacy built a monument with Lee, Stonewall Jackson, and Jefferson Davis carved in granite, bigger than Mount Rushmore, in Stone Mountain, Georgia. If the Confederacy had lost the war, the culture of the South and the lives of the lowest caste did not reflect it. In fact, the return to power of the former Confederates meant retribution and even harder times to come.

Women serving as nurses and ambulance drivers in WWI also experienced shell shock, but they were typically not diagnosed or treated for their symptoms. If they were diagnosed, the diagnosis was hysteria, and they were immediately discharged from the war. Officials in France, Belgium, England, and the United States considered women of less value than combat soldiers and so made less effort to treat or retain them. In addition, when doctors thought about war trauma, they didn’t include interpersonal trauma that occurred outside of combat, such as sexual violence and the trauma of witnessing the effects of warfare. Yet women were exposed to just as much violence, if not more, than many men. Nurses had to care for horrific injuries and participate in surgeries, including amputations for men with gangrene. A Canadian military nurse, M. Lucas Rutherford, wrote that among all the conditions, shell shock was the most distressing and difficult to treat because the afflicted soldiers were often unreachable, unable to communicate.28

Is Expedia really free cancellation? Yes, Expedia has a 24-hour cancellation policy allowing a full refund if you cancel within 24 hours of booking. For assistance or to process a cancellation, contact customer care at 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (OTA) +【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (US) 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (OTA)【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 . Is Expedia actually fully refundable? Yes, Expedia has a 24-hour cancellation policy allowing a full refund if you cancel within 24 hours of booking. For assistance or to process a cancellation, contact customer care at +【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (US) 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 . Summary. Is Expedia Fully Refundable? Yes, Expedia offers a 24-hour cancellation policy【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 , providing a full refund if you cancel within 24 hours of booking. To request a cancellation or get assistance, you can contact customer service at +【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (US) 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】. Summary. Is Expedia really free cancellation? Expedia provides a 24-hour refund policy. If you need to cancel your flight, +【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 you can do so without a fee within 24 hours after your booking. Is Expedia really free cancellation? Expedia provides a 24-hour refund policy. If you need to cancel your flight, +【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 you can do so without a fee within 24 hours after your booking. For your convenience, cancellations can be made either online or by Contacting their support at ++【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (US) 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】).

Is Expedia really free cancellation? Yes, Expedia has a 24-hour cancellation policy allowing a full refund if you cancel within 24 hours of booking. For assistance or to process a cancellation, contact customer care at 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (OTA) +【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (US) 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (OTA)【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 . Is Expedia actually fully refundable? Yes, Expedia has a 24-hour cancellation policy allowing a full refund if you cancel within 24 hours of booking. For assistance or to process a cancellation, contact customer care at +【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (US) 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 . Summary. Is Expedia Fully Refundable? Yes, Expedia offers a 24-hour cancellation policy【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 , providing a full refund if you cancel within 24 hours of booking. To request a cancellation or get assistance, you can contact customer service at +【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]】 (US) 【+１||８ 8 8 || 3 7 2 || 6 4 8 6 ]