It Happened on My Shift

By Thomas J. Cortez

This book shows sixty-two stories plus of events that occurred during the forty years of being a nurse. Some of the stories can be happy and funny events, while others can be sad and heart-breaking. The stories started to occur to a young man who went into nursing during the Vietnam War in 1967, and these ended in 2008. It talks about so many people suffering and dying and the employees who opened up their hearts to comfort the patients and their families. Many cried with them in the final hours of life.

I was a nurse and hospital supervisor for a total of forty years. And I often cried with the patients, their families, and the staff. I was glad to be able to be there to support all of them who needed my support. However, it left me scared for life. Every time I see a happy movie or sad movie with a happy ending, I find myself crying. I became a crying man when I left nursing. My heart goes out to all who are still supporting the very critical and dying patients. God bless them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524507879

Thomas J. Cortez

The book is about a young man who started as a licensed vocational nurse at age eighteen. He started working in the emergency room in one of the three trauma hospitals in the city. There would be 90 to 110 patients of severe trauma every day. After eight months, this young man was drafted into the army for the Vietnam War. Many who went there never came back. However, this young man was drafted and stationed in Germany. There he was assigned to be a medic to an engineer unit. Later on, he was assigned to work the emergency room and surgical intensive care unit of a large military hospital. After two years in the army, he returned to the same emergency room he started from. After working in trauma ERs for six years, he transferred to work in a medical intensive care unit where he continued to work with the survivors from the ER. After twelve years at this hospital, he transferred to a new hospital and helped start a new hospital from the ground up. It was at this point that he changed the face of nursing by asking the administrator to pay overtime for those that worked over forty hours and to add weekend and ICU differential pay. He also convinced administration to increase the rate of evening and night shift differential pay. He also requested that a $2,000 bonus for new hires in the medical surgical units and a $3,000 bonus for new hires in specialty areas, such as the ER, ICU, and OR. So this young man started supervising three different hospitals for twenty-eight years. To this day, nurses get paid more because of this man. He was not there for the money. It was because of a journey of taking care and supporting not only nurses but all staff taking care of critical and dying patients.

Book preview

Personal note on my early days as a nurse

W hen I became a nurse, I had been working at a dog and cat hospital. I was not paid very much. The base pay should have been about four dollars per hour, but the doctor in charge of the hospital only paid me fifty cents an hour. I used to work there from 7:00 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. Then I would run home for four miles, take a shower, and take a bus and go work from 3:00 p.m. till 11:00 p.m. as an LVN. I learned a lot at the animal hospital. I would feed and care for about ten exotic cats and a few dogs. It was my job to feed them and clean their inside and outside cages. In addition, I was responsible for helping the doctor examine dogs and cats brought to the hospital ill, injured by other dogs or hit by cars. I was not alone. I had several helpers to help bathe large and aggressive dogs. I remember one time when three of us had to get a large German shepherd, which weighed more than me out of a cage. He was a very angry dog, and we had to give him and enema. We had to lasso him from two sides with electrical cord with poles and then tie his mouth. It was a very rough day, but by the time we finished with him, he loved us. I learned to do stool exams under a microscope and identify the different type of worms, and then the doctor would verify the exam, and he would order treatment. I use to help the doctor get X-rays of dogs and cats injured, or animals that may have eaten something they should not have. A few times, the doctor would have to either take the animal to surgery to take out the toy or foreign body or do it with a scope and large long instruments that could grab the foreign body. I also assisted the doctor doing surgery and helped him by setting up a sterile field and handing him the sterile instruments. We would neuter dogs and cats and dewclaw cats. On one instance, while we were dew clawing a cat, the person who was holding the cat’s head lost his grip on the cat’s head. I was holding the cat’s paws, and the cat bit my finger. My finger was caught in the cat’s mouth, and my skin was stuck in the cat’s teeth. I could not free myself from the cat’s mouth, and the vet doctor tried desperately to open the cat’s mouth to free me. Finally, after five minutes, I was free, and I needed to go to the emergency room where I worked, and I got eight stitches. The hospital knowing I had an injury gave me several days off. In the dog and cat hospital, we groomed dogs and cats, gave them baths, and dunked them in a tank full of fluid for killing fleas and ticks. It was a very interesting job, and the doctor was proud that I had become a nurse and insisted that I wear my white uniform and nursing pin, which I did. Many times, I could not tell which was worst, the dog and cat hospital or the trauma emergency room. We did deliver many puppies to dogs which had a larger size dog breed a smaller dog. Sometimes, some of the puppies were born dead and only a few survived. I recall a cat became pregnant too young and died having her babies, and all babies died. It was an interesting field. I worked at the dog and cat hospital for about two and a half years and at the trauma ER for eight months before I was drafted into the army during the Vietnam War. At that time, I had to stop working both jobs. When I returned, it is when my forty years of nursing started, and it was a constant parade of critical and dying patients. And it all happened on my s hift.

Becoming a Nurse

I had gone to college in the mid-1960s to try and become a registered nurse, but I failed out of college mainly because I could not understand chemistry, microbiology, anatomy, and psychology. I failed those classes three times. Those classes were like a different language to me. I wanted to stay in school and get some kind of degree to avoid the draft. Anyone who was not in school or was single was being drafted to go to the Vietnam War. I knew if I was drafted without any kind of degree, I would be in the middle of the war as an infantry soldier, or fighter, and probably get killed. Vietnam was a very bad place to go, and many who went there did not come back. Those that returned were badly injured or mentally scarred for life. As soon as I failed in school, I was asked to drop out of college by the college, and the draft board was knocking at my door. It just so happened that I had not given up on being a nurse, and I had signed up to go to a license vocational nurse program and was accepted. I immediately informed the draft board that I had been accepted into a nurse program for one year, and the draft board backed off. As soon as I finished nursing school, the draft board was at my door again. I informed them that I needed more time because I needed to prepare and study for the license board exam, and if I did not get my license, I will have wasted a whole year for nothing. Once again, the draft board backed off and gave me more time. I did not know how much time I needed, but I was able to pass my boards and get a job in an emergency room, which was one of the three main trauma centers in the city. I was able to work there for eight months before I was finally drafted. My job in the emergency room was my first taste of very critical patients. It was like the valley of the very critical and dying patients. For eight months on my eight-hour shifts, we would see 90 to 110 patients of nothing but blood and guts every eight hours. I remember two guys who came in from a car accident with facial lacerations. They looked around and saw all the death and dying, and they asked, Is there a war around here? Both had just returned from Vietnam, and they thought they were back in a war zone. I told them that, There was a war on the streets of our city, but only the ones that worked in the emergency room knew about the war. We were getting people shot in the chest multiple times or shot in the head with brains hanging out still talking but later went into a coma and died in front of us. Ladies were having babies as they came into our doors and had never seen a doctor, and some of them were teenagers. Many patients involved in head on collisions were dead on arrival. Whole families, parents and children, would come in with crushed chest or heads still breathing their last breaths. Many were missing arms and legs. Mothers were crying out for their babies with their dying breath. All I could say was, Yes, we are taking care of them, but in fact, their two babies laid in the next bed with their whole body burned black like a piece of charcoal still breathing their last breaths. Many were burned beyond recognition. I saw one man cut in half by a trained, and when he arrived, he was breathing his last breaths. When the doctor saw him, he said, I can’t do anything to help this man. I will go and try and save someone I can help." The doctor walked away. I stayed with the man for a few minutes as the man took his last breath, and I gently touched his arm. My thoughts were, go in peace to God, mister . The parade of sick and dying was nonstop. Over doses, heart attack, stabbings, shootings, lacerations, from car accidents, or factory worker accidents. One nurse thought it was very funny to initiate me by trying to shock me to the trauma all around me and asking me if I wanted to shake his hand. When I did shake his hand, he walked off, and I was left shaking a hand with an arm from a man who had lost it in a factory accident. As he walked off, he laughed. Then he told me to take the arm to lab so they could take care of it in case it could be put back on the patient. That was a hell of a thing to do, but I did it. It was a constant parade of trauma, critical patients, and many were dead on arrival and dying patients. Those that could be saved were sent to surgery, and some would die there. If they made it to the intensive care units, some would die there as well. The worst I ever saw was a man going one hundred miles an hour hit a station wagon with two families in it. There were four parents and eleven children—all in the station wagon. All of them were critical, many were bleeding to death because many were missing arms and legs, and most had severe head injuries and crushed chest. Those that had arms and legs had many broken bones in addition to head and chest injuries. At that time, there was no such thing as mandatory seat belts. It was so bad with every one bleeding to death that all RNs in the hospital were called down to the ER to see if they could start IVs on all the patients. All the nurses from the floors were in shock to see this kind of trauma, and all could do nothing except cry. They could have put pressure dressing to the bleeding wounds and place pressure dressings to the limbs that were amputated. However, they were of no help because not only were they in shock, but they did not know where any of the dressings and medical equipment were located. There was at least one hundred feet of stretchers with patients bleeding to death or dead already. There were two rooms with seven patients also in the same condition. Blood, blood, blood was everywhere—on the walls, the curtains, and the floor. The entire emergency room was one blood bath. Out of sixteen people, only three children were saved. The driver of the car, who hit the station wagon, cut his head off. This was the night shift, and when the day shift came on, they were also in shock to see every stretcher with a dead body and blood everywhere. The entire emergency room was covered with blood like a horror movie except it was for real. The emergency room had to be closed for three days to clean the curtains, walls, and floor by an army of housekeepers and nursing staff. The ER staff that worked the night shift was given three days off with pay. I was one of them. I never talked to my parents about the trauma I saw, but I told my mom once with all due respect that I did not want to see breakfast after work. Many shifts, I did not even have time to go to the rest room much less have any time to eat. I told my mom I wanted to see meat and potatoes, Spanish rice, beans, tortillas, and desert. In other words, I wanted a full meal because I was starving and exhausted. I told her that if I ever saw eggs again, I would rather throw the plate at the wall and go to bed hungry. I did not want breakfast but supper. From that point on, God bless my mom, she gave me supper when I would come home at 8:00 a.m. As I think of her, I just realized that it was my mom who suggested I try nursing, and it was a door that opened to my destiny because of her suggestion. I was blessed because I had mom who loved me and adored me as her first born. I owe it to her that I went into a journey of helping people during their most critical moments. She was a very religious person and believed that every person should have a rosary in their coffin when they die. I told her that I did not want one. I am close to God, but I told her I wanted to have a bottle of whiskey in my hands in my coffin. She was very angry at me and told me I was going to hell. I told her that’s why I wanted a bottle of whiskey so I could have a drink when I got there. That just made her angrier. Little did she know I was in hell every time I went to work. I never told this to anyone. With all the trauma, I was not more than an observer at times because I was so new at being a nurse. Sometimes, I was allowed to hold pressure on a bleeding wound or place a dressing on a wound that had been sutured. However, for the most part, I spent most of my time taking patients to x-ray, to their rooms, to surgery, or to the intensive care. I was also allowed to do vital signs on new admissions, like blood pressures pulse and temperatures. After eight months of blood and guts, I felt I was ready for Vietnam, and I was finally drafted. This was when I discovered that those that were drafted only had to serve two years, but they did not have a choice of where they would be placed. If a person was a brain surgeon and he was drafted, that surgeon may land up being a cook. However, if he volunteered, he could be a brain surgeon, but he may have to go to Vietnam for three years. So they tried to make a company clerk out of me. I kept telling everyone I was a nurse, but no one cared because I was drafted, and I had no choice of what field I would have to do or where. They tried to make me a company clerk, and after that class, I still could not even type at all. Everyone was going to Vietnam. The three battalions before ours all went to Vietnam, and so did mine. When the orders came down, I was expecting to go to Vietnam like everyone else, but I was the only one who did not go to Vietnam. I was sent to Germany. When I arrived at my assigned base, my commander wanted me to type a letter, and I told him I could not. I told him I was a nurse. He immediately transferred me to a medical unit, which was attached to an engineer battalion that built bridges so that tanks and jeeps could cross over rivers. My job was to hold sick call and evacuate any soldiers injured, which rarely happened. I was sent on my first assignment to the mountains where soldiers would have spent their days clearing roads in twenty below zero degrees so that military jeeps and tanks could travel those roads. I was in a barracks that housed about one hundred soldiers, and I made sure that my bed was next to one of the eight heaters stove. However, even with the stove constantly going, I would stay in bed all day and night under the blankets, inside a sleeping bag in full uniform with long johns. When a soldier would come to me for sick call for a cough or something simple, I had a shelf full of medications, and I would direct the soldiers as to which medications to take off the shelf. I would not even come out of my sleeping bag. I would just point to the shelf and tell the soldier to take a certain medication three times a day, and if he did not get better, he could come back and see me. I never got out of the sleeping bag until I had a soldier show up with a nose that was frost bit. I had to go talk to the commander and tell him that this particular soldier was grounded and should not go out any more in twenty or below zero to do anything or he could lose his nose. I told the commander that his entire company should be checked for frost bit areas, and some should be grounded for at least one to two weeks if they have frost bit areas. I told him that the only place the frost bit soldiers could go is to eat and to the rest room, and they needed to cover all exposed areas. I also recommended to the commander that all soldiers going out in very cold temperatures should wear goggles to protect their eyes, and all exposed areas should be covered. I told him that if we did not have scarves, we could cut blankets in strips and tie them around the soldier’s heads. The commander was very impressed with me. Every time his company went out to play soldier, he wanted me with his unit. I did get to go on extra duty training to a large military hospital in Germany. I mainly took care of families of soldiers stationed in Germany. I worked in the ER and in the SICU. In the SICU, I was assigned to a general who no one wanted to take care of. The general had back surgery and was a very good patient, and he needed no help at all. I mainly helped him with his medications and help him sit up to eat and to get out of bed for a bath. Once he got back in bed, I made him comfortable by giving him a back rub and put cream to his legs and feet with a massage. He asked me about myself as to what I did in civilian life, and I told him I was a nurse, but when I was drafted, they tried to make me a company clerk. The general was surprised that no one had bothered to give me any kind of promotion. I showed him my LVN license from the states. He was surprised that he had a real nurse taking care of him. Within a few days, I was promoted five ranks above private. Everyone was surprised including me. I asked everyone who is this general, and I was told that he was the general in charge of the whole European operation. When I went back to the home base, I discovered that every week, a list of men would appear to go to Vietnam, and my name never came up. My commander wanted to know who I knew, and I told him I knew Mickey Mouse, God, and this general. After that, everyone was treating me like I was the general. President Nixon was telling everyone back home that he was pulling 50,000 soldiers out of Vietnam. He did not tell them that he was pulling 50,000 out of Germany to replace them. My name never came up in the list to go to Vietnam. I think they had orders not to touch me or send me to Vietnam from the general. So I spent my entire army service in Germany working with a medical unit as a nurse. I had an angel looking out after me. He was a general angel. He arranged for