Beth’s Story

In early 2021, I walked into an Emergency Department shift that would change my life. What began as a routine day on the front lines of the pandemic ended with me lying in an Intensive Care Unit bed—fighting for my life after being assaulted by a patient.

As an ER nurse, I had already been through a year of chaos, uncertainty, and trauma. The first wave of COVID-19 had shaken us all. Hospitals were full, patients were struggling, and staff were stretched to their limits. But that day, my world changed in an instant—not from a patient’s illness, but from their anger.

I had been working in the ER throughout the pandemic’s most harrowing months. With increasing patient loads, heightened emotions, and growing frustration on all sides, violence in healthcare had become an ugly reality. I had seen it before—patients lashing out in fear or pain—but I never imagined I would be the one lying on the receiving end.

I remember the moment the verbal aggression escalated. The shouting and profanity from a patient had turned into something darker—something dangerous. Less than a few hours after my shift began, I was admitted into the ICU. I remember feeling stunned. I didn’t belong there—I was the one who sent patients to the ICU. But there I was, experiencing firsthand the very danger I had worked so hard to protect others from.

The weeks and months that followed were a blur of PTSD, flashbacks, and overwhelming fear. I couldn’t return to work. I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) in late 2021. And as I recovered, I couldn’t help but think about how many others were experiencing this same crisis.

Violence in healthcare is not a new problem, but it has grown exponentially in recent years. A 2023 poll by the Canadian Union of Public Employees revealed that 66% of healthcare workers reported increased workplace violence since the onset of COVID-19, with 26% noting significant increases. And yet, despite this crisis, many healthcare systems—especially those in Canada where healthcare is provincially managed—still lack the uniform, overarching policies to protect workers across the board.

One thing has become painfully clear: we need presumptive legislation for healthcare workers.

The Case for Presumptive Legislation

Presumptive legislation is a crucial step forward in protecting healthcare workers—particularly those in high-risk areas like emergency rooms, ICUs, and mental health facilities. In essence, this type of legislation would recognize that the nature of the job itself creates risks to the physical and psychological well-being of workers. Healthcare providers would not have to fight to prove that their injuries—whether physical or psychological—are work-related. The job itself would speak for the inherent dangers.

Currently, in the absence of such legislation, healthcare workers are often left to navigate an uphill battle to receive the compensation and support they need. This becomes even more complicated in cases involving psychological trauma, like PTSD, which is notoriously difficult to diagnose and prove.

But here’s the truth: The nature of the work speaks for itself. As healthcare workers, we face verbal abuse, physical threats, and outright violence from patients who may be scared, in pain, or under the influence. And as much as we understand the reasons behind this aggression, it doesn’t change the fact that we are being hurt.

We need presumptive legislation to ensure that all healthcare workers who are injured on the job—physically or mentally—receive the psychological and financial support they need. This is not an optional luxury; it’s a necessity.

Why Are Nurses Leaving the Profession?

The lack of proper protections is one of the leading reasons nurses and other healthcare workers are leaving the profession. For many, the breaking point comes when the trauma, stress, and violence become too much to bear. We are losing nurses not because they lack passion or skill, but because they are being pushed beyond their limits, and the systems meant to protect them are failing.

The reality is that nursing and healthcare in general are becoming more dangerous every year. Staffing shortages and increasing patient loads create a perfect storm for violent encounters. Nurses, who are already battling burnout and mental exhaustion, now face escalating violence. In a profession where we are supposed to heal and care for others, we are often left to fend for ourselves.

So why are we still expected to “just deal with it”? Why should we accept being assaulted, harassed, or traumatized as part of the job? The answer is clear: we shouldn’t.

Heading Toward a Crisis

We are on the brink of a healthcare crisis. Violence in the workplace has become so pervasive that many healthcare workers are no longer able—or willing—to continue. Nurses are leaving in droves, and it’s only going to get worse unless we take immediate action.

We need a cultural shift. We need governments, healthcare leaders, and the public to recognize that assaulting healthcare workers—whether physically or emotionally—is simply unacceptable. This is not a new problem, but it has reached a tipping point. And without sweeping legislative changes, we are heading toward a future where healthcare workers are few, and the quality of care suffers as a result.

Moving Forward: Advocating for Change

I am sharing my story today not only for myself but for every nurse, every doctor, and every healthcare worker who has faced violence in the workplace. This issue is personal. It affects us all. It is time for presumptive legislation that recognizes the danger of our work and ensures that healthcare workers have the support they need to continue providing the care patients deserve.

We are not just “doing our jobs”—we are putting our lives on the line every day.

It is time for our leaders to acknowledge this reality and make the changes that are long overdue. For the sake of every healthcare worker, for the sake of our patients, and for the future of our healthcare system, we cannot afford to wait any longer. our nurses should be a priority.