Shayla Harris: The Perfect Nurse
When I signed up for my externship, I did not sign up to code a patient. I signed up to shadow a nurse and practice nursing skills I learned during school. I practiced communicating with a healthcare team, transporting patients, and taking vital signs. I was happy to be growing in skills I was comfortable with.
I had just finished up my patient’s vitals when I heard the alert.
“Adult Medical Emergency on 7 West. Adult Medical Emergency on 7 West.”
I watched as all the nurses ran to the other side of our hall. The patient care tech pointed in their direction before asking,
“Aren’t you going? That means there’s a code.”
I froze. A code meant a patient had no heartbeat, stopped breathing, and would need CPR. I had never been the type of person to volunteer to put myself into chaos. I liked to stay put in my comfort zone and only perform skills I knew well. CPR was not one of those skills. I also didn’t want to get in the way of the actual nurses. On the other hand, my nurse told me that if I could ever experience a code then I should. I thought it would be interesting to watch the process, so off I ran to the scene.
I entered into complete chaos. Numerous machines were ringing, doctors yelling, and the patient laid there with his eyes wide open. I was informed that he was an end-stage dialysis patient. As I moved closer, I realized that this was the first time I had ever seen a dead person. Before I could process the thought, my nurse waved me forward and told me to start compressions. I quickly stepped on the stool and began my thirty compressions as I was taught in school.
I went two inches deep to the rhythm of Staying Alive. Suddenly, thirty compressions felt like a lifetime. Sweat poured from every part of my body as my arms felt like rubber. I could hear his ribs cracking as I exerted more force. Even with intense force, the doctor still yelled at me to go deeper. His eyes bored into mines as I felt the bile climbing up my throat. I closed my eyes trying not to cry or throw up in the moment. As soon as I reached thirty, I stopped, not wanting to face him anymore. The doctor yelled again,
“Continuous compressions! Continuous!”
Another nurse ripped me off the stool and continued compressions. What did I just do? Apparently after the patient was intubated, compression could be continuous-something I must have missed when reading the textbook. I had never felt so stupid or useless. I sulked away to a corner and watched the process continue.
I watched as the other nurses showed no particular emotion as they performed compressions on him over and over again. How could they be so strong when I felt like I would be the one they would have to code next? I tried to catch my breath as the professionals buzzed around me. I gulped realizing that I was supposed to be one of those professionals in less than a year. I didn’t know how I could ever hope to have their level of confidence and knowledge. They seemed like perfect nurses.
When it was time for me to start compressions again, the patient had a pulse. That meant he was alive, and we could stop CPR. Everyone celebrated and started to pack up. He didn’t look any less dead. His skin still cold, his eyes still staring at nothing, the only breathing being mechanical. His wife nervously walked into the room searching for answers. I couldn’t look her in the eye. I couldn’t think of a single word to say to her. I brushed past her and ran to the supply closet.
As soon as I made it to the supply closet, all of my emotions came to the surface. I regretted even going when I felt like I did a terrible job. Even though we got his pulse back, I didn’t feel like I saved a life. I just felt clueless. My nurse tried to reassure me and told me I did amazing for my first time. Her words were ignored as I hysterically cried. I cried for so long and so hard, my nurse sent me home for the rest of the day. Just great. Not only did I suck at CPR, but I also couldn’t even take care of the rest of my patients after.
By the time I dragged myself to my car, the tears dried up. I called my fiancé and told him that I sucked at CPR. He reprimanded me for saying that and reaffirmed me. He told me he could never build up the courage to ever do CPR on someone. Even if I didn’t do the best, I still had the courage to try. I rolled my eyes at his words, still self-loathing.
Now, I can appreciate them. Why did I expect to be perfect at something I only learned from a book, something those other nurses probably done at least ten times. At the end of the day, I helped him get a pulse back! That was worth something. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone and learned a new skill. I wanted to do that more often.
After that day, I had a five-day break, so I don’t know if that patient ended up dying or living. In all honesty, I don’t want to know. I am just grateful that I had the courage to try. For the rest of my externship, I sought opportunities to try new skills that scared me. I changed chest tube dressings, changed ostomy bags, and even tied restraints. All things I would have never volunteered for if I never had the experience.
I will never forget that patient or that experience. I now strive to practice all my nursing skills as much as I can, so I can master them. I still get scared when I’m faced with a new challenge, but I try to think differently about it. Instead of focusing on the fear of messing up, I try to think about practicing being the road to mastery. I can’t be a perfect nurse, but I will always try my best to provide amazing care.
Shayla Harris is a nursing major from Columbia, SC. She completed a ten-week externship on the trauma-surgery floor and mother-baby floor at Prisma Health Hospital. She will graduate in Spring 2026 and hopes to work at Prisma Health.