When I landed my first job on the Med-Surg Telemetry unit, I was over the moon. It was the same floor where I’d done my med-surg clinicals and later my preceptorship. I already knew the layout, the routine, and more importantly, the nurses. It felt like coming home.
What I didn’t recognize or realize was that all of these great experiences for me was in school and I only experienced those things with the with the day shift. I had never experienced the night shift. And when I started working nights, I met a different vibe entirely especially from a particular nurse. Let’s call her Jane.
I’ll never forget giving my first report. I was so nervous but all went well. The first few times I gave her report, it was tolerable. I didn’t notice anything out of the way. My preceptor was still beside me, offering backup if I missed anything. But once I was on my own, it changed. The sighs. The eye rolls. The huffing and puffing. The condescending tone.
Every. Damn. Single. Time.
Jane always asked about the patient’s history, and I never had it. Not because I was lazy, but because that wasn’t something they really dinged in our heads and nursing schools. We learned of co-morbidities but not putting the big picture together; So no, I never had the history.
The eye rolling started killing me. She was really affecting my psyche. I began to dread seeing her name on the assignment sheet. I just got to a point where I did not even want to give her report. I hated giving her report. And it was overtly likewise on her end.
One day I just couldn’t take it anymore.
This particular day, I go to give a report. She saw I’m standing there for her. She’s getting her assignment. And as soon as she sees my name, you could just see the big huff. This time I couldn’t swallow it. The dialog went something like this:
I said, “I’m standing right here. What’s the problem?”
She looked caught off guard. “What?”
“There’s clearly a problem. Every time I give you report, you huff and puff and roll your eyes. I’m a grown ass woman just tell me the problem.”
She hesitated. Then finally said, “You never know the patient’s history.”
Fair point. But that wasn’t good enough.
I say, “Okay, so tell me why it matters. Help me understand why it’s so important so I can do better.”
That’s when the breakthrough happened.
She explained: “Because your patient isn’t just here for cellulitis. If they also have diabetes, CHF, or hypertension, I need to be aware of that. If I walk into the room and they’re dizzy, I’ll know to check their blood sugar. Their chronic conditions don’t stop just because they’re admitted for something else.”
And it clicked! I saw the light. Everything made sense.
I said “oh, I get it.” I honestly got it.
After that day, not only did I start including the history in every report, I went a step further explaining how we were managing those comorbidities. And you know what? From that day on, the tension disappeared.
The Lesson
This wasn’t just about report. It was about assertiveness, communication, and the courage to call out incivility. Not with aggression, but curiosity and clarity.
I learned that:
- Speaking up doesn’t always mean confrontation. It can lead to understanding.
- What feels like rudeness might actually be frustration from unmet expectations.
- The key to resolving tension is not silence but dialogue.
That uncomfortable moment helped me grow. Not just as a communicator, but as a clinician.
And that’s how I found my voice.