I lost my career to workplace violence
By Patt Moon-Updike
I have wanted to be a nurse since I was 9 years old. I was able to realize my dream of starting nursing school in my late 20s. I graduated nursing school in 2007 and secured a nursing position, finally becoming what I had always wanted to be. But on June 24, 2015, it all changed.
I was working at the Behavioral Health Division of Milwaukee County as a psychiatric nurse in the Child and Adolescent Treatment Unit. I had also previously worked at this facility in the Women’s Treatment Unit. I was only three days into my position with the Child and Adolescent Unit, and I was excited to be working with and hopefully making a difference in the lives of these kids. It was close to the end of shift, I was catching up on my charting for the day and we were training a new nurse on the unit.
A young man on the unit who was well known to the staff because of his history of breaking windows and damaging doors in the unit was getting aggressive in the hallway — screaming, posturing and thrashing. He was not assigned to be my patient that day, so I continued to chart and waited for his nurse to take hold of the situation. The nurse orientee and I headed down the hallway to help intervene because I didn’t want him alone in this situation, I followed.
Our goal was to de-escalate the situation and get the young man into the seclusion room. Someone called for security and we thought that four security guards would be coming to help; only two security guards arrived. We managed to get him down the hallway although he was bucking us and screaming. We got him into the seclusion room, set him on a mattress that was on the floor. Someone yelled “clear” and everyone stepped away from him.
That’s when he spun around on his back and kicked his leg high into the air striking me in the neck, hitting with such force to my throat that my head snapped backward; I heard a “bang” and “pop”, and all the air rushed out of me.
I grabbed my throat and spun around. I heard someone screaming “Patt’s been hit” and then someone grabbed me from behind, led me out of the room and put me in a chair in the hallway. All I remember is sitting in a chair, not being able to breath, holding on to my trachea for dear life; I just knew if I let go, it would collapse and I would die right there in that hallway. I was praying to stay conscious.
I was taken to a trauma hospital, which was luckily located just across the street. I was scared out of my mind, and reality was fast setting in that I might not even be able to say goodbye to my children. They were afraid for me every day when I went to work, and here I was on a gurney having my scrubs cut off, nurses yelling that they couldn’t find a vein to put a line in. I could understand absolutely everything that was going on around me because I was one of them!
I was intubated through my nose, while awake, with blood dripping down my face. I was headed to surgery, so they could find out if he had crushed my trachea. I still hadn’t removed my hand from my throat; they couldn’t even pry it off. I was that terrified.
I woke up in intensive care uni with a huge collar around my neck and I had been taken off intubation. I was very lucky. My trachea was intact. My head looked like Rocky after a fight, but I was breathing on my own. I was released from the hospital two days later.
After I went home, the nightmares started. I couldn’t sleep. I figured this was normal and it would pass. However, I soon found out that this was a different kind of “feeling” than I had ever experienced before. I have had obstacles in my life, but I would get back up, brush myself off and get moving. This time it was different. As the days passed, I became more scared of people and of people being unpredictable. I was diagnosed with moderate to severe post-traumatic stress disorder, moderate anxiety, insomnia, depressive disorder and social phobia related to this incident and I suffer from terrible memory problems.
I fought with Milwaukee County Workers Compensation attorneys until August 2018 — eventually winning my claim after two court hearings and many months under surveillance to see if I was faking my PTSD.
When I last worked as a registered nurse, I made $62,000 a year. Now on Social Security Disability after deductions for Medicare, I bring home $12,720 a year. I lost a career that I loved.
I have a huge problem still calling myself a nurse. I do not know what to call myself now. There is a deep loss when you used to make a difference in the lives of people, in what was your true calling. Now that space is filled with extreme sadness and fear through no fault of my own.
I know that we can prevent violence, through requiring better risk assessment, policies, training, and systems. The assault that happened to me was not a random or freak event, but a predictable scenario that could have been prevented had there been a clear plan in place and better-trained staff there to assist. The individual who assaulted me should have had a one-to-one assignment to a nurse, given his previous behavior. When nurses and healthcare workers are safer — so are our patients. We cannot afford to lose more good nurses and healthcare workers to preventable violence.
Since the assault, I have challenged myself to do things to beat this. To try to be the person I used to be. I promised my union a couple of years ago that when I was ready, I wanted to help others. I’m ready and I hope telling my story will help prevent assaults like this on other healthcare workers.
Patricia “Patt” Moon-Updike is a registered nurse and a member of the Wisconsin Federation of Nurses and Health Professionals.
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