I'm a former Army nurse who worked in an ER during COVID-19. It was like being on active duty all over again.

Theresa Beebe
Theresa Beebe worked as an ER director in Texas for more than the first year of the pandemic.
  • Theresa Beebe, 35, is a veteran of the Army Nurse Corps and a former Dallas emergency room director.
  • During COVID-19, Beebe says working in the ER felt as if she were on active duty all over again.
  • Healthcare workers are fighting like soldiers, she says, but their sacrifice isn't as acknowledged.

As a veteran of the Army Nurse Corps, I'm used to hearing "thank you for your service" from friends, family, and even strangers. I appreciated hearing these words of acknowledgment when I was in active duty and certainly in the first few years after I became a civilian. But in the past 18 months, that phrase has started to feel like salt in an open wound. 

When I got back to the US in 2013 after completing my active-duty service obligation, I started my first civilian job as an emergency room nurse at a hospital in Dallas, Texas. By March 2020, I was the ER director at that same facility. 

No one knew then to brace for the tidal wave of COVID-19. Frontline healthcare workers were drafted into a war to fight an invisible, elusive, and endlessly morphing enemy, while having limited-to-no supplies, minimal reinforcements, and no end date in sight. I found myself leading "civilian soldiers" into a daily battle for their lives and the lives of their patients.

When I deployed to Afghanistan in September 2012, my mission was always very clear

When a patient arrived at my combat support hospital, regardless of whether they were allied Armed Forces, Afghan civilians, or even hostile combatants, my job was to keep them alive, period. 

Although the days were hard and repetitive, I made it through knowing that the end of my deployment was in sight and I'd be able to return home.

The fight against COVID has neither a clear enemy not an end date

Triumphs only came in the smallest moments of gratitude, like when a declining patient would stay conscious just long enough to say goodbye to his wife before being intubated. Another small victory was when a COVID-positive patient was able to FaceTime with family from her hospital bed as her daughter gave birth to her first grandchild. 

But those moments of gratitude and hope quickly vanished when both of those patients died a few days later. COVID casualties weren't just lives lost, they were hope lost as well.

It would be unimaginable for a soldier who recently returned from Afghanistan to hear someone say, "Is it even a real war?" Yet there are Americans who still refuse to believe that the fight against COVID is a real battle, even as it visibly decimates families and healthcare workers nationwide. 

Working in an ER during COVID-19 felt as if I were on active duty all over again 

When you're on active duty, your time is not your own. There's no such thing as the end of a shift — you're dismissed when the mission ends whether that's 7 p.m. or 1 a.m. As an ER director during the pandemic, it was very similar. 

For over 18 months, I was emailing, calling, and texting with staff, the ER charge nurse, or hospital administration until 10:30 or 11 p.m. every night of the week. I was so consumed by the weight of the work that I had to set an alarm to remind myself to leave the hospital and pick up my kids from daycare. 

Three to four nights a week, I'd be giving my 3- and 1-year-old a bath with my laptop on my knees and my phone to my ear trying to find ways to move critical ER patients to the already crowded ICU, or to another hospital so my nurses could make space for countless other patients.

My 3-year-old son, Cole, would laugh as he splashed me with tub water and yell, "Put your phone down momma, look at all the bubbles!" He didn't understand why I didn't play with him and his sister anymore during bath-time. I couldn't separate from the job, and everyone in my life could feel that the 24/7 COVID-19 mission came first. 

In July 2021, I left the ER for a career change. Like so many other front line staff and hospital leaders, I took inventory of my priorities and decided to change my mission. Now as a small business owner, I can decide to leave my phone at home and prioritize time with my family, a choice that would have left me feeling anxious and guilty not long ago.  

The battle with COVID has been longer and more personal than I imagined

Unlike a deployment tour of duty, there's no date that we can circle on a calendar and think, "If I just make it to this day, then I can go home and rest." Without a light at the end of the tunnel, the spiritual and emotional resilience of healthcare workers is dwindling. My staff fought nonstop against COVID with hardly any time off to heal their minds and bodies. 

Unlike wars overseas, the battle with COVID-19 is happening in our towns, but the sacrifice is no longer recognized. 

I'm thanked for volunteering to fight in a war overseas, but my sacrifice is completely overlooked for the hundreds of battles I fought and lost just 10 minutes from my house. I'm thankful that our national pride appreciates veterans for their service; however, I know that I've fought harder, lost more, and been more deeply wounded during my fight against COVID-19 than I ever was during my tour of duty. 

Next time you meet a healthcare worker, realize that you're meeting a battle-weary soldier who's trying so hard to keep up hope and stay in the fight. And if you are a healthcare worker, know that your wounds are real, your exhaustion is valid, and your sacrifice is honorable. Thank you for your service.

Theresa Beebe is the director of prior authorizations at her business Pacific Therapy Access. She has been an ER nurse for over 13 years, earning her BS in nursing from Carson Newman College in 2008 and her master's in business administration from Texas Woman's University in 2016. 

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