Beth’s Story

In early 2021, I walked into a shift in the Emergency Department that ended with me as a patient in the Intensive Care Unit due to a patient’s actions. I had been working full-time in the ER through the first year of Covid. Prior to my shift, we were briefed on the number of Covid patients in our zone, in the ICU, and how many deaths had occurred. We also discussed any new rules or restrictions that were in place. It was a challenging time, filled with uncertainty for both patients and staff.

“For too long, violence in healthcare has been accepted as “part of the job.” Due to staffing shortages and increasing patient loads, tensions have risen and violence has escalated.”

As an ER nurse, vicarious trauma was expected. We treated patients who had experienced domestic violence, motor vehicle collisions, gunshot wounds, stabbings, massive injuries, and diagnoses of widespread cancer, among other things. We encountered people who were extremely vulnerable—scared, in pain, and waiting long hours in a chaotic environment while seeking answers, reassurance, or safety. I learned that people in pain and fear might lash out, not because they are “bad people,” but because they are in an environment beyond their control.

One day, while working with two newer nurses, a patient was being wheeled back to their room after a scan. This person was shouting profanities, and I felt a sinking feeling that something was about to go wrong. Before long, the verbal aggression escalated to physical aggression, and within a few hours of starting my shift, I found myself being admitted to the ICU. I was in shock; I didn’t belong there—I was the one who sent patients to the ICU! This incident had a wide-ranging impact on my ER. Patients had to be relocated, and our site went on diversion, directing ambulances elsewhere. While I was being treated for my own injuries in the trauma room, I felt overwhelming guilt for not helping my colleagues move the affected patients.

When I was discharged from the ICU, I was still in a state of disbelief. I told my partner that I should probably go down to the ER to get my lunch box and shoes. He insisted we just go home. The following weeks and months were a blur; I kept reliving the event, experiencing intrusive flashbacks and the fear that I might die at my workplace. I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) late in 2021 and was unable to return to work due to severe psychological distress and overwhelming symptoms.

For too long, violence in healthcare has been accepted as “part of the job.” Due to staffing shortages and increasing patient loads, tensions have risen and violence has escalated. A recent poll from the Canadian Union of Public Employees revealed that 66% of front-line workers reported increased workplace violence since Covid-19, with 26% noting significant increases. Healthcare in Canada is managed at the provincial level, complicating efforts to address this issue nationally. Many healthcare zones are left to create their own safety measures without overarching legislation, which is inadequate.

I share my story as just one example of violence against healthcare workers. I feel compelled to advocate for change—not only for myself but for all my colleagues who face hostility, verbal aggression, threats, and even physical violence every day. This is where presumptive legislation for healthcare providers becomes crucial. Such legislation would acknowledge the risks we encounter not only in the emergency room but across the healthcare field. It would ensure that healthcare workers injured on the job receive the necessary psychological support for this complex and challenging work. We should not have to prove that our injuries are work-related; the nature of our jobs should warrant recognition.

As healthcare providers, we deserve to work in environments where we can deliver patient care without fearing for our safety. It’s long overdue for our government to take these concerns seriously and implement meaningful change. Assaulting someone at a bank, grocery store, or gym is unacceptable, yet it seems to be tolerated as part of the job in healthcare. I strive for a future where nurses and all healthcare professionals are safe at work. Anyone dedicated to helping others should be able to do so without fear.