It’s Just Not Fair

I always tell my kids that life isn’t fair, and it probably never will be. Basically, fairness is subjective, and we can't control everything in life. I want to prepare them for life's ups and downs, teaching them to bounce back when things get tough.

I’ve had my share of “unfair” moments, from minor annoyances to major setbacks. These experiences have taught me to be patient, keep pushing through, and stay positive even when things don’t go my way. It often takes some time and reflection to really understand these situations, even if they’re frustrating at first.

On the work front, I’ve been in a job I love for about a year and a half. Our company works with places like facilities, personal care homes, and personal homes, coordinating patient care through specific nurses to keep everything running smoothly.

As a PRN nurse, I love the flexibility of my schedule, which lets me balance work with my personal life. This means I can travel without stressing about patient care. But, taking on too many patients can get overwhelming, so I try to keep things manageable. So, I decided I am no longer taking patients of my own, I’ll just continue to help my fellow nurses to lift their burden.

In the end, even though life can seem unfair and work can be challenging, I see these experiences as opportunities for personal growth. I hope to pass this understanding on to my kids as they find their way through life.

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Very First Patient of My Own

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My first patient was an elderly man living at home with his loving wife, and his three daughters were there often. The middle daughter handled his daily tasks, while the eldest, who suggested hospice care, was a bit like her mom and not very assertive, but she did what she was able to. Even though he had some short-term memory loss, he was clear-headed and really sweet, and we got along great. The family dynamics were a bit tricky, with the middle daughter often taking charge, which caused some tension since the wife was the main caregiver. Their house always felt like a rope about the break whenever I was there due to the amount of tension between the family members. During one visit, the patient wanted to take a shower instead of a bed bath, showing his independence despite his wife's concerns. We tried to make it happen, but he got tired. This decision led to a clash with the middle daughter and wife, and I ended up being taken off their care team. I went to his funeral quietly and later reached out to the eldest daughter to pay my respects. I explained that I stayed away from the service to avoid any drama. I know she appreciated me coming, and I know he would have too.

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Second/Third Patient

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This situation really highlights how challenging and emotionally draining caregiving can be, especially when you're dealing with elderly folks with serious health issues. My second patient's husband was a huge part of her life (62 years of marriage), and he ended up becoming my third patient. Sadly, he passed away before she did. She had dementia, which really took a toll on both of them. I started working with her in July 2024, and even though her husband had his own health problems, he was her main caregiver. They lived in a house full of memories, and he didn’t want to let all of that go.

At first, he was doing okay physically and mentally, but I watched him decline rapidly because of the stress from caregiving. He struggled to understand her condition and thought her behavior was just laziness and being hard of hearing, not symptoms of dementia. Their daughter and I tried to help him see that they needed to move to a care facility, but he was really attached to their home and their old life, and didn’t see the need for spending all the money for a facility. Eventually, her daughter got power of attorney to help with the move, but they faced financial problems, especially because of a reverse mortgage that left them without home equity. Their savings were running out, and Medicare didn’t offer much help, with my second patient getting just $800 a month.

Despite everything, they moved to a care home at the end of March 2025, and her husband passed away about a week later, on April 9, 2025. She received great care at this care home until she passed on January 4, 2026. I attended the funerals of my first two patients but missed her husband’s because I was away. Fortunately there was a lot of pictures and talk of her husband during her funeral, so it gave me some closer since I couldn’t go to his. I find comfort in knowing I did my best to care for them and hope the bigger issues causing this kind of suffering get fixed. I’m dedicated to spreading love and kindness to make life better for all of those who are struggling.

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The Facility that has my 💝

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In healthcare, especially nursing, getting the hang of how assignments work is super important. Nurses get assigned to facilities, not individual patients in the facility, which can mean a lot of work, especially for full-timers. As a PRN nurse, I really enjoy helping out these amazing professionals by lightening their load. One of my biggest mentors, who taught me hospice care, is the nurse for the facility I often go to, and they've really shaped how I approach nursing.

My company hit a rough patch with a nurse shortage, putting a lot of pressure on the full-time staff. This gave PRN nurses like me the chance to support many patients each week. Since I started, I've been visiting this facility regularly, first during my training with my mentor. I took care of my first patients here on my own and still visit a few times a week, spending hours caring for the patients we have there.

To build connections, my daughter and I would drop by during off hours, bringing some joy and companionship to the residents, who loved having her around. Over the year and a half span, I've formed bonds with the residents, workers, and their families. Our company used to have 5-7 patients at a time from this facility, but now it's up to 15-18. Even though I've grown close to them, I can't tell them all I'm leaving, and say goodbye, because of company rules. One patient's son only reaches out to me with concerns, showing the trust and rapport we've built.

I'm still confused about why I was let go, with the only explanation being that I "cried because I had to take a bandaid off," which is a misunderstanding of my compassion. I remember the situation clearly: a patient with a bad ulcer was in a lot pain during care, and I felt for them deeply. This reason for my dismissal is troubling and unclear.

I reached out to an LPN friend at the facility, who was shocked and hadn't heard about my expulsion. She said her manager didn’t know anything about it either. No one tried to fix the situation or acknowledge what I've done to be dismissed, leaving me puzzled. I wonder where this decision came from and why there was no communication. Honestly, I'm a bit worried now that I wasn't supposed to ask her and might get in trouble for it, and lose my job. I thought I could trust her, but now I'm not so sure. Once trust is broken, it's hard to know what to believe about someone.

It's hard to believe my company would make up a reason for my expulsion, hinting at other issues they're not telling me about. This isn't my first time dealing with mixed messages at the facility. I once brought up concerns from the facility’ staff members about one of our new CNA's performance, only to get reprimanded and undermined. The facility manager denied hearing any complaints, which didn't match my experience.

The same manager now says they don't know about my expulsion, even though it came from within. My friend was sad about my departure and said she valued me being there, but she didn't stand up for me. If she really cared, I'd expect her to defend me and recognize my contributions, but that wasn't the case.

Feeling uneasy, I told her to ignore any questions to avoid risking my current job. I just want a clear reason for my expulsion, given how dedicated I was to the facility. The joy my daughter and I found there is gone, leaving me wondering why. A valid reason would bring closure, but the lack of transparency makes me feel wronged.

Life feels unfair, and I might never find out the truth. For now, I'll stick with my current company (while I can) while also looking for new opportunities. My company's indifference is disappointing, especially since they know the facility means so much to me. My manager and the overseeing RN's lackluster responses add to my frustration. For many, this is just a job, but for me, hospice care is a calling—a commitment to providing comfort during vulnerable times.

In hospice care, we connect deeply with patients and families, seeing their struggles and triumphs, which fuels my passion. I don't just clock in and out; I pour my heart into caring for patients. Despite the career challenges, I'll work to rise above and grow from these experiences.

Reflecting on my time at the facility, I'll really miss the residents and the connections I've made. With time, the pain will fade, leaving cherished memories to guide my nursing journey.