I thought I would remember the first death I’d witness as a nurse.

Funny enough, I recall neither that nor the circumstances surrounding their death. I can’t remember most of the other deaths I’ve seen also. It’s my coping mechanism. Nursing is learning to dissociate. When you lose patients almost everyday, some back-to-back, you can’t afford to mourn each loss. Sometimes you cry too much. Other times, you don’t cry at all. Watching someone die and having to continue your shift as if nothing happened – it messes up with one’s mind, especially if one’s DNA is woven with humaneness.

I’ve lost tens of patients. I wonder if my empathy died along with them, too. 

It’s a mental whirlwind, nursing is. We’re bridging the gap between the living and the dead, tugging on the ropes of their spirits so they stay alive. We rejoice as some survive, watch helplessly as others die. It’s my job basically, saving people. Isn’t my competency called into question when I can’t save them?

I’ve learned this, however: maintain a balance. Show up everyday. Smile. Share in joys, pain, loss. Allow myself to grieve. Do the best I can. Recognize my limitations.

Helping people achieve the best quality of life their bodies can allow them to – that’s what truly matters.

Author’s Biography

Pamela Erhiakeme is a registered nurse and creative writer from Nigeria. She won first place in the Short Fiction Contest by Under The Madness Magazine (2023), OnceUpon A Teen Flash Fiction Competition (2023) and has won and been shortlisted for many other writing awards. She’s an alumnus of the 2024 Idembeka Creative Writing Workshop.