Why nurses matter

On the critical list – anxiety and calm on a night in hospital

Late Shift
DIRECTOR: PETRA VOLPE

What feels like an agonisingly tense rollercoaster of a thriller with life-or-death consequences may simply be another person’s routine day at work. Precinct dramas set in and around hospitals have been a staple of television primetime viewing since Dr Kildare or Emergency Ward 10, but those shows were conceived and set in a very different era when medicine was performing new miracles, doctors were god-like heroes, nurses were ministering angels and patients were obedient and grateful. Conditions are so much tougher now that there is a worldwide shortage of trained nurses, leaving every nursing shift with the potential for tragedy.

This is the reality – only a nurse will know whether heightened or not – depicted in Swiss writer-director Petra Volpe’s new feature Late Shift. Staff shortages have left efficient and conscientious nurse Floria Lind (Leonie Benesch) one distraction away from possible disaster as she races against the clock to complete her round of pre- and post-operative patients in a modern Swiss hospital.

Wearing practical blue scrubs, she pushes her cart from double room to double room, checking blood pressure and temperatures, changing drips, assessing if pain relief is needed and dispensing drugs. Her phone rings with queries from relatives or requests for her to fetch or deliver patients (in their heavy beds, which she must manoeuvre alone) to theatre; red lights flash when patients press their bells for help; and she barely has time to call and wish her young daughter goodnight. She also has a student nurse to supervise.

Alone in one room is a private patient (Jürg Plüss) who complains about how long it has taken for his peppermint tea to arrive. Another patient, arriving late for surgery, is on his phone and wastes time by not listening to instructions. Mr Leu (Urs Bihler) wanders the corridors begging to be told the results of his tests. If anything should happen to him, he begs Floria, she must see that his elderly dog is safe. The department is at capacity and, as the patients and their demands and fears multiply, it seems impossible that Floria will be able to keep up. But she has to. And we can only marvel at her forbearance and kindness.

There are moments of calm. When Mrs Kuhn (Margherita Schoch), a confused elderly woman transferred from a care home, becomes agitated and distressed, Floria remembers the care home’s note that she likes to sing. As twilight falls outside the window, their voices blend in harmony. Another respite comes after another elderly patient dies, and Floria respectfully tends her body. And the patients and relatives we come to resent for not appreciating how hard their nurse is working are, one by one, revealed to be behaving badly because they are in pain or dying or afraid of dying.

It is in the few short moments that Floria can spare to hold a hand, to listen, to admire a photograph of Mr Leu’s dog, that we see why nursing – besides the high level of clinical skill it requires – is a vocation, not a job. But, before the end credits, we are told that 36 per cent of qualified nurses quit within four years. If they are as dedicated and caring as Floria, then that’s a real tragedy.