Behind the Nurse's Station

Same car, different doors. I'd slip into the hospital at 6:45 AM, she'd walk in at 6:50 AM. Like clockwork. Like a sad little game we played every single morning. The nurse's station became my sanctuary and my prison, a fortress of monitors, charts, and unspoken words. There I was, a nurse who could patch up any wound and read any EKG but couldn't fix the ache of hiding who I really was.

The nurse's station saw everything. Every stolen glance, every careful step back when we got too close. Behind its solid counter, I could pretend to be charting while my heart raced beneath my scrubs. It watched me fall in love with my coworker. Yeah, I know, sounds like something straight out of Grey's Anatomy, right? But trust me, there was nothing sexy about whispering in supply closets or feeling sick to my stomach every time someone asked about my weekend plans. The relationship turned out to be toxic, and I bolted after two years. But man, the hiding, that was the worst part.

Want to know how it feels? Think about every time you've casually mentioned your boyfriend or girlfriend. Now imagine having to catch yourself. Every. Single. Time. Imagine switching pronouns, making up fake stories, turning your life into one big lie. Exhausting doesn't begin to cover it.

So I ran. Packed up and headed north like distance could somehow fix me. Spoiler: it didn't. Jumped into another relationship that was easier to walk away from, but guess what? Still hiding. Still making up stories about my "roommate," still feeling my heart race every time someone asked about my personal life.

Here's the thing about being a nurse living a lie, it messes with your head. How can I sit there telling patients to be honest with me when I'm drowning in my own secrets? When I have to write "single" on forms because the truth feels too dangerous?

These days, I'm with someone amazing. She’s my soulmate. She makes the other relationships look like practice runs. She gets me, makes me laugh so hard my face hurts, knows exactly when I need a hug or a kick in the pants. But even now, in 2024, she has to hide at work. I can't go to her company parties. Can't join the holiday celebrations and family picnics. We're about to move, and instead of being excited, we're sitting here practicing how to act like sisters in front of the neighbors. How messed up is that?

My mom and my biggest cheerleader always says, "If you're not in the club, you can't talk about the club." Living in it, though? That's a whole other story.

As a nurse, I see it all the time. The blank emergency contact forms. The way patients dance around pronouns when talking about their partners. The people who put off getting help because they're scared of being judged. It breaks my heart because I get it. I've been there.

This isn't just my story. It's about that terrified teen who is afraid to come out to his parents. The old man who almost died because he was too scared to get treatment, worried about how his husband would be treated. It's about everyone who's ever had to swallow their truth while receiving care.

I want more for our future kids. I want them to live in a world where "coming out" sounds as weird as announcing you're right-handed. Where my patients don't have to do a safety check before mentioning their partners. Where I can say "my wife" without doing mental gymnastics first.

You know what's ironic? That nurse's station, it's supposed to be the heart of the unit, the place where we coordinate care and save lives. But for too many of us, it's where we perfect our performance, where we master the art of deflection. Behind its counter, we juggle medications and monitor alarms while carefully editing our stories, our lives, our truths.

Until then, I'll keep fighting. For the scared kids. For the silent partners. For anyone who needs to know that at least one nurse out there gets it. Because sometimes the best medicine isn't in a pill or injection - it's in being seen for who you really are!

Today, I no longer work behind a nurse's station. Now, I'm transforming my knowledge into something different. Something life-changing. The nursing station is no longer just a barricade to hide behind, it's becoming a beacon of hope for many of us. Now, when I find myself leaning against one, I think about all the others like me, using their own nurse's stations as shields. And I promise myself: this space, this sacred ground where we heal others, will become a place where we can finally heal ourselves.

Maybe sharing my story will help someone else step into their truth. Because at the end of the day, we all deserve to love openly, to live honestly, to be who we are, not just behind the nurse's station, but everywhere.

In healthcare, we don't just treat; we see, we hear, and we value. Join the Revolution of Visibility.

Dr. Shannon Whittington, DNP, MSN, CCM, LGBTQ+ Certified, is the founder and CEO of Whittington Consulting, established in New York in 2019. Shannon is a? LGBTQ+ workplace inclusion consultant, healthcare equity strategist, and process standardization expert. She is also an award-winning bestselling author. She and her team help healthcare organizations become the gold standard in LGBTQ+ Patient-Centered Care thereby decreasing the cost of care and improving patient outcomes.

If you're ready to transform your corporation or healthcare system, you can connect with Shannon via phone at (347) 931-0155 or you may connect on LinkedIn or schedule a time on her calendar.