I was trying to think how I could contribute to the kaupapa. I’ve been a nurse for 10 years and things don’t seem to have changed. This is what stays in my mind, and this is why I strike:
We were short-staffed again. Myself and my colleagues had to pick up two extra patients each that day. After surviving the morning rounds, lunch finally came. We thought things might slow down since my colleague had discharged two of her patients.
But no! Two acute patients arrived fast, so urgent we barely knew what was happening. My colleague took them on because I was still with my patients.
What was meant to be our lunch became a shift spent preparing for the worst. Those patients were fighting for their lives, in pain, scared, and very unwell. Hours later, we lost both, 30 minutes apart.
I still remember the tamariki crying and screaming for their pāpā. I held them, trying to offer some comfort. While holding them, I watched my colleague break down, completely undone as if she hadn’t done a good enough job.
Going home exhausted and starving seemed small compared to what we experienced that day. Although we are encouraged not to take things home, it’s only natural to carry it with you. And I still carry this today. This isn’t just a job. It is heartbreak on repeat.
This is why I strike.