I have been a nurse for 13 years—I specialize in critical care and even worked as a medevac flight nurse—and this pandemic is by far the worst thing I’ve experienced in my career.

I arrive at work at 6:45 each morning and count the confirmed positive COVID-19 patients listed on our staffing board. Currently our 30-bed ICU unit is full of these patients, and we have opened up off-site ICUs where we have 4 patients so far. Almost all of our patients are on mechanical ventilation and are extremely ill, and in need of very high levels of critical care. The number of admissions to the ICU is almost double what we would see on a normal day.

Staffing at our hospital has survived so far, but as we open additional ICU beds in off-site areas, many questions are being asked about who is going to take care of those patients. Our doctors are running nonstop, trying to care for the rapidly declining COVID-19 patients and also trying to care for the other patients in our unit. Even during a pandemic, we still have to take care of the heart attacks, strokes, and all of the other patients that we would see on a normal daily basis.

Hospitals have been running lean for years with barely enough staff and equipment. But now we’re in a famine. COVID-19 patients admitted to the ICU require serious resources—staff, equipment, medication. Nurses are asking, Do we have enough ventilators? Enough IV pumps? Enough medication to keep these patients comfortable and alive throughout their illness? There are no good answers.

Soon we will not have enough supplies to save lives—that’s when we start making life-or-death decisions.

Nurses enter into the health care field to help people. We know that we cannot heal everyone, but we can do our damned best to promote survival. But during the coronavirus pandemic, we may not have the luxury of being able to do everything possible to save a life. There may come a time when we have to send the least likely to survive home to self-quarantine because we just don’t have the equipment to try to save them. It’s a traumatic, brutal reality. I’ve never seen nurses as anxious and fearful as they are right now.

This is beyond stress—this is a war. We are about to confront a situation that most of us have never encountered. We signed up to help people, not risk our lives due to poor planning and supply shortages. I’ve spoken with nurses from all over the country and the general sentiment is: “I am terrified.” I foresee many health care providers with some form of PTSD when this is over.

When I’m not in the ICU, I’m trying to take care of myself. But I am not sleeping well. I’m up every few hours with racing thoughts about what may or may not happen at work. I am self-isolating. I am not seeing my family. I can’t physically or morally leave my job at this moment.

I am lucky enough to live with another travel nurse that works in the same unit as me. I have known her for over 10 years. She is like a sister to me. Coming home and being able to talk to someone that actually understands what I am saying and can relate to it is invaluable. In the last few days, we have had moments of trying to laugh it off and preserve our ICU bravado, but these usually end with some tears and us confessing to each other how afraid we are of what is happening and what the coronavirus situation could evolve into.

There are moments of hope. When my roommate went to the grocery store the other day, the store employees thanked her, handed her flowers, and applauded. I am so grateful to everyone who has sent food to our hospital and made generous contributions to first responders and health care professionals around the world.

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