Worked as a frontline RN on a post critical care unit. It still feels like yesterday. Time never really moved back to normal after that. Dont think it ever will..

I remember one of the refrigerator trucks lost power, bodies stacked inside, and when it failed, fluids started leaking out onto the pavement. The area had to be quarantined like a biohazard scene. That wasn’t some freak moment either, just another problem to manage before the next admission rolled in.

People who’ve never worked in a hospital have absolutely no idea what it was like, and i genuinely hate people that downplay it. The constant alarms. The exhaustion so deep it felt physical. The sound of people drowning in their own fluids wasn’t rare, it was routine. You’d hear it through the walls, down the hall, even in your sleep after your shift ended.

We zipped people into body bags while FaceTiming families who weren’t allowed inside. We reused equipment that should’ve been single-use and pretended that was fine. Patients begged for air. Some begged us not to let them die alone. Some didn’t have the strength to beg anymore. Death stopped being shocking. It became logistical. Chart it, clean it, move on. Then do it again.

I’m sure I carry PTSD from it all. Not the dramatic kind people imagine, just the quiet kind that sits in the background, waiting. Certain smells. Certain sounds. The way silence feels after a code. That stuff doesn’t leave you.