The year was 1971 and the Viet Nam War was raging. Kids were getting married right out of high school before the young men were deployed overseas. It was a scary time for everyone. She was 19 and had moved to Philadelphia to be with her sailor husband. She was 8 months pregnant and excited at the prospect of becoming a mother. Her husband would be shipped out aboard the USS America in three months and would be gone for a year. Her baby would be welcomed before his deployment. The timing of this baby was intentional, and a safeguard in case anything should happen to her husband. Her childhood dream was to become a nurse, so she applied and got a job as a Nurse's Aide, in a Catholic Hospital. Her assignment was on the Obstetrical Floor.
One day just after she got to work, she was paged to the labor and delivery suites. As she walked into the department she was met by a nurse carrying a dead baby. The baby was placed in her arms and she was told to take it to the morgue. The limp baby was still warm and was wrapped in a thin plastic shroud. The girl could make out some of the features of the boy, especially his black, curly hair. As she held him profound sadness washed over her. The baby had died of placenta abruption just moments before his birth. Could this happen to her, she wondered? As she gently and lovingly held him, he was touching her large belly. All at once she could feel her baby kicking the dead baby. The irony of this was not lost on her. Life was meeting death through her body. Her knees felt strangely weak as she walked. It took every ounce of strength she had to carry him down the elevator and leave him alone on the hard morgue table. She went home that night and cried herself to sleep. A few days later the nurse that had given her the baby (and prompted by a supervisor that saw what occurred) apologized. The girl told the nurse it was “Okay” but, of course, it wasn’t. The girl worried about her own baby until he was safely in her arms. To this very day, the girl thinks about that baby on her son’s birthday. I know this because I was that Nurse’s Aide, and it happened 52 years ago in May. It feels as real to me today as it did back then. It is my PTS experience.
This is a hard story to read about as I am sure you agree. It is even harder to believe that anyone would use such poor judgment in an assignment of a coworker. The important lessons to be learned from this are:
Make sure to assess the trauma that you and others may experience in the course of a normal day. Prevent the trauma when you can and debrief it when you can’t. Constantly assess your environment. What may not be a trauma for one person can be a huge trauma for another person. Use the debriefing outline I have provided for you on the Home page or in the Stat Lavender Bags.
Do not ask someone if they are “Okay” for they will always say “I am fine.” Ask probing questions and get them to speak of the event. Remember trauma can be stored in the brain for a lifetime. People will either talk it out or act it out. Do a welfare check for someone who has had a traumatic case after 24 and 48 hours post-event.
Think about the assignments you expect people to do. Being kind to your coworkers it will make for a healthier team and a happier work life.
It has been said that all things happen for a reason. Perhaps the reason for this experience was so that one day I could share it with you.
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