that documentary just made me feel so many things!!! i discovered spring awakening when i was a freshman in high school (14 years ago!!) and it was the show that made me fall in love with musical theater. i obsessed over every cast and every production. i made friends through this show. and then i got to see the deaf west revival with one of those very dear friends and it was my favorite theater experience i’ve ever had. just. i’m so happy this show exists and that this reunion happened and that they filmed it and shared it with us.
people in the notes suggesting it was “improper” for the juror to do this or that it “introduced bias” to the court proceeding 🙄 the ice agent in question accused a moc of assaulting him / resisting arrest. how is the agent being a white supremacist not relevant. what universe are you living in
As a member of the world’s SECOND oldest profession, I assure you this is just one of many ways the justice system is systematically fucked up.
For anyone who wants to know how to fact check something you are told while on jury duty without getting fined:
First, you need to understand that the rule that jurors can’t just google things is coming from a good place. Like imagine that you are on a jury that’s considering, say, a medical malpractice lawsuit and one of your fellow jurors comes into the jury room and says to you, “I think the victim’s expert was lying because WebMD totally contradicts everything they said.”
And you might be like, “But WebMD is notoriously unreliable website and the expert you’re talking about is a researcher from Mayo Clinic.” But this person cannot be swayed.
Like, we can all agree that would be bad.
So even though these rulescan contribute to unjust outcomes as in the case above (and seriously, the fact that the defense attorney didn’t fact check that is probably grounds for legal malpractice), they also prevent jurors from just looking up bullshit online and taking it more seriously than the actual experts the court has put on. And I think in the era of anti-vaxxers/QAnon/COVID denial/etc., we can all understand why it’s a bad idea to trust that people can tell fact from bullshit online.
So in light of this, how do you as a juror fact check something?
The key here is that you have to ask the court for information. Jurors can ask questions of the court during deliberations, so if something you said sounds off to you, you can ask for more information.
The key term you want to use here is “credibility.”
The job of a jury is to decide what are called “questions of fact.” Long before the trial even starts, lawyers will have hashed out all the “questions of law” — like, what the statute of limitations is; what laws, exactly, were allegedly broken; whether the court you’re in even has jurisdiction; stuff like that. Jurors are responsible for deciding which side’s version of the facts has more credibility.
For instance, if the prosecution’s witness says X and the defense’s witness says Y, the jury is responsible for deciding which is true, X or Y. And you do this by weighing which one is more credible.
So in this case, if the juror had known to, he could have told the judge, “In order to properly assess the ICE agent’s credibility, I need more information about his tattoo. I have doubts about whether he was telling the truth about it, which would impact how credible I would find his testimony. Can the agent please provide evidence that it really is what he says it is?”
There are a lot of problems with our legal system, and I think one of the biggest is that jurors aren’t educated about what they can and can’t do. Juries have a lot of power, if (and only if) they know how to use it.
Reblogging for that last post, because frankly, “what to do as a juror” is one of those things the schools should really be teaching us. Serving on a jury is one of the most powerful rights of citizenship and everyone should be educated in how to exercise it correctly.
“Patients aren’t interested in who scored a 4.0 GPA, who has the most credentials, the most awards, or who answered the fewest questions on NCLEX, they want to know that their nurse has compassion, and the smarts to do what’s right & safe; Patients aren’t so impressed by a nurse who can recite the process of disease, or chatter endlessly about their foundation of knowledge, they want to know that you’re honest, listening to their concerns, and able to explain what their disease means for them; Patients aren’t looking for who has the best skills, they want to know that you won’t hurt them, or if it will hurt that you’ll be honest and warn them; Patients may not understand that you have a heavy workload, but they want to know that you won’t abandon them when they need you. Patients aren’t looking for the perfect nurse, or interested in explanations of all the kind things you have done, they just want to see that you care right now.”
Right now, there is a baby nurse who is searching online and deep
inside for an answer. There is a brand new member of the profession who
is questioning her calling. There is a newly-minted graduate who
wonders how school seemed to teach her everything and nothing all at the
same time. There is a greener-than-grass new hire who is praying that
she doesn’t kill somebody at work tomorrow, and wonders if she already
did yesterday.
Dearest baby nurse, don’t let this scary
new world drag you down. You’re going to have moments when you are
sitting on a toilet seat for far too long, probably for the first time
in your entire shift, and question why you even decided to become a
nurse in the first place. That’s okay.
You’re
going to have days – many of them – when you plop down in your car
after leaving work two hours later than anticipated; and you’re going to
turn off the radio; and you’re going to roll down the windows; and
you’re going to cry the most painful and ugly cry. That’s okay.
You’re
going to have shifts where your head is spinning and your hands are
shaking and your brain is thinking faster than your fingers can type. That’s okay.
You’re
going to have moments when you clean more bodily fluids in one 12-hour
day than an average person might in a lifetime. You’re going to feel
that – sometimes – you’re the only person on the entire unit, because
everyone around you is just as busy as you are. That’s okay.
You’re
going to have times when patients yell at you for something you didn’t
know (that perhaps you should have). They will complain about you to
anyone that might listen. They may even become so frustrated with their
care that they threaten to leave. And this is going to bother the
hell out of you. That’s okay.
You’re gonna listen for 20 minutes and still not hear a damn murmur. That’s okay.
You’re
going to have moments when you feel like something “just isn’t right”
with the patient in your care. You won’t have enough experience as a
frame of reference for what may be happening, or why. You’re probably
going to feel helpless in these moments – it’s a “tip of the tongue”
phenomenon to the highest degree. That’s okay.
You’re
going to feel devastated the first time a veteran nurse yells at you –
even more so when their reaction is for something nit-picky and
non-essential. You’re going to mumble something unsavory about them
under your breath. That’s okay.
You’re going to
call a doctor to clarify an order, and she’s going to complain. She’s
going to want answers, details, vital signs, and a picture of what is
happening with your patient, and you’re going to word-vomit something
that probably makes very little sense to an angry cardiologist at 3 a.m.
That’s okay.
You’re going to walk into a room
expecting to pass your morning medications and come to find your patient
unresponsive. Maybe she’s stopped breathing. Perhaps she’s lost a
pulse. Either way, you’re going to bring forward everything you learned
in every class, clinical, and scenario – and forget how to do any of
it. You’re going to scream for help. You’re going to look like a deer
in headlights. And you’re going to wonder, “When the hell am I ever
going to be able to be as good as they are?” That’s okay.
You’re
going to lose that patient, on an unexpected shift, and in an
unexpected way. You’re going to think it was your fault. You’re going
to be riddled with guilt and feel ashamed of how you reacted. You’re
going to replay that scenario in your head over and over again, and
every time wonder why you didn’t see it coming. You can’t always see it
coming. You can’t always be the hero. And that’s okay.
Because someday you will be.
Someday you’ll understand the subtleties and nuances that no one can teach you except for time Herself.
Someday you’ll be able to balance the full-fledged mountain emergencies with the miniature mole-hill ones.
Someday
you’re going to address a patient or family member who is frustrated
with a sense of firm yet compassionate care, and will know how to
redirect their emotions.
Someday you will call a doctor, and she will thank you for keeping such a close eye on whatever concern you’ve already handled.
Someday you’re going to finally take a lunch break, and it will actually be during lunchtime.
Someday
you’re going to do chest compressions or inject medications or
ventilate a patient, and your paralyzing fear will be replaced by sheer
adrenaline.
Someday, somebody is going to die
on your watch – but whether it’s through blood, sweat, and heroics or a
quiet and accepted end – you will have made a difference in the
journey of that patient and his or her loved ones.
And while some days you may still feel like a hamster on a wheel, going through the motions just to stay afloat – someday
you will realize that you are not the one sinking and needing to be
saved. Rather, you’ve grown into a life raft for another baby nurse,
insecure and unaware of all of her untapped potential.
Someday
you will understand that the nursing profession is perhaps the hardest
of them all, but in so many different ways, the most rewarding.
And someday
you will stand up for yourself; stand up for your patients; and stand
up to the barriers that impact your highest capacity to care – this day
will remind you why you trudged through every tear, scream, and
exasperated sigh.
So do not give up, baby nurse: new to the
world in which nurses beget nurses; still questioning why nothing ever
ends up like the texts books might have said. No matter how bad it
feels – no matter how hard it seems – always turn to the nurses who
can teach you that one can have a brilliant mind and a beautiful soul;
one can be funny when things feel too serious; one can be tough as nails
and still be softened by the circumstances; one can make mistakes and
still maintain integrity. Stand your ground, baby nurse; ask questions;
study hard; prioritize what matters; own up when you don’t know; and
don’t let anyone beat you down – especially that little voice in your
own head. If you allow yourself to do it, you’ll be amazed by how
quickly a baby nurse can grow.
First I want to tell you not to worry too much about things like starting IVs and drawing labs, these will come easy soon enough. One day you will be really good at these tasks; one day you’ll be the one that people ask to help them.
Then, I would tell you this: if it doesn’t feel right, if you are having to convince yourself that this patient is okay, if something about it looks off, if your gut is uncomfortable, double check, call the doctor, ring the alarms. No one has ever gotten mad at me for being concerned for my patient.
I would tell you not to lose hope. One day you will come to work and look around and realize these coworkers no matter how loud and insane they are, are your family. You will look around and not see the scary old nurse, but your sweet mentor who has taught you so much. You’ll see your work husband, your partners in crime, your best friends.
I would tell you to keep learning, keep trying. That patient that crapped out on today, that left you sitting there wondering, “If I were a better nurse, would I have seen that coming?” will be a lesson for tomorrow. So the next patient that look like that you can recognize.
I want you to remember how kind people have been to you through this growing up phase. Remember every mama nurse that explained something to you, or placed an IV, or stood up to the cranky doctors for you. Remember your sweet manager that laughed when you told him how many times you put the same order in trying to make it right.
Most importantly, you can ask for help; no one here expects you to know everything. I promise, I promise, I will not snap at you when you come to me with a question. I will not call you stupid. I will help you. I will explain it. I promise. I only ask that in a year, when you’re comfortable here, you do the same for the new baby nurse. I know you may not believe me when I say you will be comfortable here one day, that every patient cough won’t terrify you, but I’m telling you the truth. Someday you will come to work, and you will not have the feeling of fear or knots in your stomach. You probably won’t even feel this change happen, but one day you’ll just come to work, do your job and go home.
In a normal relationship, when you get home from work you sit down and tell each other about your day. But when you’re a nurse, most of your stories are either gross or sad. You usually opt for the gross stories because you feel guilty about sharing the sad ones because you don’t want your partner to have to carry that with them. We carry it around all day every day, and we don’t want to burden someone else with it. But if we don’t burden other people with it, that means we keep it to ourselves. And that can make us distant, and tired, and cold. All of those things we aren’t supposed to be because we’re nurses. So sometimes we come to tumblr to share it because we know there are people out there who will understand. And sometimes we get criticized for it. Called bad nurses. Called heartless. So we bottle it up again. And the cycle continues.
But back to why it’s hard to love a nurse. We work long hours that are physically, emotionally, and mentally demanding. We have to be at the top of our game for 12.5 consecutive hours. And some of us do it in the middle of the night. I joke with my fiancé that I pretty much just live in a perpetual state of jet lag. And that means that I rarely have the energy to cook or clean or shop. Throughout our entire relationship, we have been very passionate about keeping things equal. But now that I’ve started work, they’re not equal. He has to shoulder some of it, because I simply can’t.
Aside from that, there’s the normal human response to being exhausted. Sometimes I snap at him when I shouldn’t. Sometimes I’m cranky. Other times it manifests itself as anxiety. Not to mention that my eating schedule is all kinds of messed up, which comes with its own set of “side effects.”
I guess what we’re trying to say is that we recognize that sometimes it takes extra energy to love us. It takes patience. It takes attempting to understand something that you could never really know. It takes understanding that sometimes we can’t tell you about our day. Understanding that I’ve been awake for 24 hours and barely made it home in one piece, and all I want is a shower and my bed.
It’s hard to love us, but we need it. We can take care of ourselves, but we need to know that someone is there to listen to the unspeakable, and to pick up the slack we lay down, and to show us light and laughter and hope outside the four walls of our hospitals. We don’t need to be coddled or let off the hook for our mistakes. We just need a little grace after spending 12 hours knowing any little mistake could mean a life. We need grace.
