¼¤Çé¿ì²¥

Summer 2020 | ByÌýStephen Brennan ’15

This past February I was celebrating a birthday with aÌýfew friends and our pack of dogs in a snow-covered cabinÌýin the North Carolina mountains with few cares. We wereÌýall happy, healthy, employed and living in a time when theÌýcoronavirus was still a somewhat small news story in theÌýUnited States.

If someone told me that fewer than two months laterÌýI would quit my job, drive from Orlando to New York, andÌýstart working as a nurse in a pandemic-ravaged state, IÌýwould have brushed it off with an eye roll and a dismissiveÌýlaugh. But here I am, months later, working in the worst hitÌýstate in our country.

After graduating from ¼¤Çé¿ì²¥ with my nursing degree,ÌýI was able to land my dream job at Orlando RegionalÌýMedical Center, which has Central Florida’s only Level IÌýtrauma center. During those five years, I was exposed toÌýall types of patient care, including severe medical andÌýtraumatic cases. With each patient that came through ourÌýdoors, I learned to work without fear and to be ready withÌýlittle or no warning.

Little did I know that I soon would use these skillsÌýoutside of the trauma room — when I felt the call to goÌýto New York.

I resigned from my position and accepted a travelingÌýnurse position as an intensive care unit nurse. I wasÌýexperiencing every emotion from paralyzing fear toÌýwhat-could-possibly-happen-next excitement, butÌýfortunately what made this transition easier is that IÌýdidn’t do it alone. Two other nurses also decided to serveÌýin New York. About 17 hours and nearly 1,100 miles later,Ìýwe arrived ready for duty.

We walked into the hospital with no idea what to expect.ÌýNormally we are ER nurses, but we were assigned toÌýwork in an ICU because of the desperate need for capableÌýnurses. I walked in and read my first assignment — in theÌýbasement. After a split second of fear, I pushed my mindÌýback to my ER training: Don’t be scared, just be ready.

After going down a series of stairs and dimly litÌýhallways, I arrived in the basement, where a researchÌýlibrary had been converted to an ICU to accommodate theÌýrapidly growing intake of critical patients. This basementÌýwasn’t the only reconfigured space. Nearly all possibleÌýareas were converted in a similar fashion to provide theÌýbest care possible.

At that instant, there are few words that couldÌýaccurately describe what I felt.

In a moment when I didn’t know exactly what to do,ÌýI went through the routine of donning my personalÌýprotective equipment: gown, double gloves, mask, goggles,Ìýface shield and hair cap. This familiar uniform helped calmÌýmy thoughts as I walked through the basement doors intoÌýthe ICU to begin my first shift. I had to force myself not toÌýdrop my jaw and break the seal on my treasured N95 mask.

But I had less control over my eyes. They grew bigger andÌýbigger as I scanned the unit. I had to fight back tears as IÌýsaw firsthand the seriousness of this pandemic and the fightÌýthese patients were experiencing. There were 14 patientsÌýlined up around a temporary wall that housed medical oxygenÌýand suction supply. Patients were positioned about 3 feetÌýapart and connected to different ventilators, medicationÌýpumps, blood transfusion pumps, and everything else youÌýwould expect to see in a large ICU but crammed in a smallÌýarea the size of a conference room. Patients I had only readÌýabout now had faces, names and families.

As I felt a tear form, my mind flashed back to a great nurseÌýmentor of mine who chanted words of encouragementÌýusing a favorite movie reference: “Brennan, ain’t no cryingÌýin baseball!” She said this as a reminder to stay strong — forÌýthese patients and my fellow nurses. With that, I blinkedÌýmy tear away and got to work.

Whether it was suctioning airways, repositioning patientsÌýin bed, frequent medication administrating and titrating,Ìýand continuous monitoring, there wasn’t a moment thatÌýwent by in that first 13-hour shift when something wasn’tÌýalarming and in need of immediate attention.

That 13-hour day became the norm, four days a week.

No two patients have the same symptoms. No twoÌýpatients have the same course of treatment. Every patientÌýresponds differently as this disease progresses. BecauseÌýof the inability to predict the virus, the plan of care is aÌýreaction to what symptoms arise, which makes it a difficultÌýbattle to fight. Nevertheless, we continue to fight our bestÌýfor our patients’ recovery.

Only a few months ago, I was sitting at my house with myÌýdogs and knew what to expect each day. Today, I’m sitting inÌýan Airbnb in Jamaica, Queens, with two friends — and I haveÌýno idea what to expect when my contract ends in June.

However, amid the uncertainty and unknown, IÌýabsolutely love what I do. And I know that I will continueÌýto work the front line wherever I’m needed most.

Stephen Brennan ’15 spent five years working at OrlandoÌýRegional Medical Center, where he received his certificationÌýin emergency nursing as well as a national Daisy Award forÌýextraordinary nurses.