Meet Linda.
She works in the ICU.
She’s what they call a quarterback. She is supposed to take the ball and communicate the play. Her goal is to get a touchdown, only this isn’t a game. She’s ‘quarterbacking’ inexperienced, redeployed nurses and the ball is a patient’s life.
She too doesn’t want her name published for fear of being reprimanded. The system isn’t working, her voice is so weak, even if she had time, the desire, the plays could not be heard.
She chose to work in the ICU because she wanted to make a difference. Her colleagues did too. It’s an area of the profession that requires extra training, it’s intense. People could die. The system is stretched beyond capacity, her employers keep offering lip service, her will is about to break.
Linda used to work to keep her patients alive. There aren’t enough respirators, hours in the day, nurses.
Her employer tells her to be a good neighbour. Consider volunteering to help other provinces in crisis. Don’t they know Manitoba is in crisis? The ICU is in crisis. Linda is in crisis.
She doesn’t know how much more she can take. Just thinking about the grief, the patients she’s lost… how many more balls have to drop before someone blows the whistle? She thinks about the team in the ICU that was once one – a family.
She feels ashamed of the way things are being handled and so she hides, behind the mask. But at what cost?
