Erika Waterman, RN

I’m thinking of the nurse who hugged me that night at Mercy Hospital when I ran away from my room. I really want this nurse to know what a difference it made. I had reluctantly presented to the emergency department at the behest of my psychiatrist. I was in the back-corner room for a one-on-one. All I felt was sheer unrelenting terror. Whatever neurobiological disaster was happening in my brain had me feeling unsafe in my body and in the world. This fear made it almost impossible to control myself. I felt catastrophe was just around the corner. I was so on edge and far from my center. When I realized I had shrieked and run out of my room, the fear and shame compounded. Patients experiencing psychiatric emergencies are often met with punishment in the form of chemical or physical restraint, especially when they demonstrate erratic behavior. This nurse was next to me in the hallway when I became aware of my body. She looked me in the eyes, and I said I really just needed a hug. When I uttered the words, I felt insane. All of a sudden, I was met with a courageous act of selfless compassion. The hug was grounding and brought me back to the moment. It was better medicine than any Ativan drip or hero’s dose of Zyprexa. It was the antidote to memories of coercive traumatic “care”. I felt human. I felt cared for. I can’t believe I asked for a hug and received it in the emergency department. I will never forget that experience. It was absolutely extraordinary and above and beyond your job description. Thank you.