Hello fellow Nurse, this is your weekly handoff. Some quick and dirty nursing news that’s worth sharing. Enjoy!

Something nurses are talking about

Buckle in. The International Association of Forensic Nurses — a 30-year institution that certified the SANE-A and SANE-P credentials for the entire profession — just officially folded. The official cause of death? An employee allegedly funneled roughly $1.24 million out of the org: $844,000 in unauthorized transactions plus a $400,000 loan they took out in IAFN's name. The DOJ then yanked a multi-year Office for Victims of Crime grant, membership cratered, and the board threw in the towel. All 6,000+ members are being absorbed by the Emergency Nurses Association, and the SANE certifications transfer to ANCC. A pillar of forensic nursing, hollowed out by one bad actor and a federal funding cut. Wild that we're losing the org that taught a generation of nurses how to gather evidence on the worst nights of their patients' lives.

Something to make you furious

More than 70 OR nurses at Tufts Medical Center in Boston just took the nuclear option: a formal letter declaring "no confidence" in their own manager. Why? The OR has been bleeding nurses for a year — ten retirements and resignations, zero replacements — while the same manager has reportedly waved off complaint after complaint. April alone clocked 1,206 hours of overtime. Some nurses are pulling 78-hour weeks just to keep the rooms covered. The union has now filed complaints with the Massachusetts Department of Public Health, the American College of Surgeons, the Joint Commission, AND CMS. When you have to escalate to four separate regulators just to get someone to listen, the real question isn't whether the manager is bad at her job. It's why she still has it.

Something to restore your faith

Twenty-three years ago, Angel Leverette was a fragile newborn at Johns Hopkins All Children's Hospital — born with congenital diaphragmatic hernia, two percent of a developed diaphragm, and most of her liver pushed up into her chest. She was not expected to live. Today she's a nurse on the same unit that saved her, caring for babies with the exact same defect, working alongside Dr. David Kays — the surgeon who repaired hers as a baby. Once in a while, when a parent is breaking down at the bedside, she'll quietly tell them she was that baby once. If you've ever wondered whether what you do at the bedside actually matters thirty years later, here's your answer.

Something from a Subscriber

"I had a frequent flyer last shift — the type who calls every fifteen minutes for a different blanket, a different pillow, a different cup, a different straw. By hour ten I was internally screaming. Then she grabbed my hand on my way out and said, 'I'm sorry I'm so much. My husband died in this same room two months ago and I just hate being alone.' Reader, I sat down. I missed my chart-by time. I do not care. Twelve years on the floor and I still get gut-checked by people I almost wrote off. We are not the heroes — they are." — Marisol R., Med-Surg, Arizona

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Please be conscious of HIPAA and omit any PPI or detail that may give hints to the people, hospital, and nurses involved in your story. We may slightly alter your story or change names for this reason. Your story may also be shortened and slightly altered to fit the size of the blog. Happy writing!!

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