Thirty Seconds Too Late

I switched the patient charts. Room 302 got the meds meant for 304. Realized it thirty

seconds too late. My hands shook as I ran back. The attending was already in there.

Heart rate dropping. Code team rushing in. I stood frozen in the doorway.

Do I confess right now and lose my license? Or stay silent and pray he pulls through?

The doctor turned and locked eyes with me. He knew. My career,

his trust, this patient's life. All hanging by a thread. They stabilized

him. Barely. Now I'm sitting in this break room, staring at my badge.

Here's what nobody tells you about nursing. Sometimes the monster isn't the disease.