Shift #6: Part 2 – Spirits of the Night!
I pulled into the hospital garage at 6:30 pm, mentally preparing myself for the long hours ahead. Once inside, I slipped into the same routine, receiving report, introducing myself to my patients, completing head-to-toe assessments, giving any outstanding medications, and charting everything. Charting EVERYTHING.
After about two hours, the halls began to quiet. Most patients were resting or already asleep. The hospital felt still, and I found myself, again, gliding through dim corridors like a ghost on her appointed rounds.
Night shifts are oddly soothing. There is a partial ‘frozen time’ feeling. The hours may leave your sleep unsettled, but the environment feels calmer than during the day. The hospital takes on a different rhythm, lights dimmed, voices lowered, and the air thick with that late-night hush. It is as if the building itself is asleep, and we few night wanderers move through it like spirits, unseen by the waking world. It is like entering another dimension.
Because of the slower pace, I could focus more on my patients. This night, I had a sweet elderly woman. I went in around 10 pm to give her medications, but her list was long. In addition, I was still trying to learn where everything was kept, so my search became a kind of silent drifting from room to room. Her medication tray was incomplete, and the ward stock drawers felt like hidden chambers I had never entered before. Then, I needed to check her glucose levels before giving insulin, but the glucose strips seemed to have vanished like a trick of the light.
A nurse noticed my quiet, hurried search and stepped in to help. When I returned to my patient’s room, I apologized for taking so long, explaining that I was new and still finding my way. She reassured me with warmth, telling me I was doing well and to take my time. Her kindness anchored me back into the moment, reminding me why I chose this profession, offering care in someone’s most vulnerable hours. It was the kind of reassurance that lets even a wandering spirit find her ground.
As I prepared her medications, we chatted. She noticed my badge said “student nurse” and asked about my training. In turn, she told me about herself. It was a small but meaningful connection, the kind that glows softly in the quiet of the night.
For the rest of the shift, she called me whenever she needed something, whether to use the bathroom, have a midnight snack, or get out of bed to read a magazine because she could not sleep. I would appear at her bedside, almost soundless, like a familiar presence she trusted to be there.
Not all of my patients that night were as easygoing. One older man was deeply confused.
It became…hmm how do I put it, “olfactory apparent and clear” by a terrible smell that wafted through the halls, something wasn’t right in the ‘orthopedic universe.’ I couldn’t initially find the source. I moved through the dim corridor with three masks on, struggling to keep the odor at bay while at the same time trying to find the source – all while in between seeing patients. While I was caring for one of my patients, my preceptor and another nurse discovered the source of the odors. An elderly man had soiled himself, and was handling the fecal matter, spreading it onto his bedding. It’s odd that there is a similarity in the young and the old when it comes feces… and spreading it on surfaces.
We cleaned him up and changed the sheets, hoping he would rest. But hours later, during my rounds, I found he had pulled out his IV, leaving blood across the bed. I called my preceptor, and together we cleaned him again, replaced the bedding, and inserted a new IV.
Finally, he fell asleep. Watching him settle into stillness felt like witnessing a restless spirit finally find peace.
As I slipped quietly from his room, I took a deep breath. The night was calm again, and I felt a quiet sense of accomplishment, another small haunting completed before dawn, by ‘Casper, The Friendliest Ghost, you know.’