Stand with Tosha… Overcoming Tragedy

Tosha survived the unimaginable along with my niece Jess. I felt her story needed to be shared to raise awareness just what these young nurses experienced. The community has stood behind them and I’m hoping this will help her with anything she will need moving forward to help heal… this is her story… I am certain I cannot capture the full situation we endeavored but I will try after seeing how brave my coworker, Jess, was by coming forward as relayed by her husband.

I was drawing blood when this all occurred; heard commotion, lowered my patient’s bed to the floor and told him he was safe and that I would be back. I closed his door and exited to an empty hallway. Why would I think any different? After all I thought I was responding to a staff assist, patient fall, one in a dozen possible occurrences; not an active shooter. When I rounded the corner of the back hall I was met in the distance by the shooter holding my coworker, Jess, at gunpoint.

She was forced to zip tie my hands behind my back – I saw the fear in her eyes, fear does not sound like enough really though. So many things happened I cannot recount step by step but how I remember those red sneakers. I heard the shots fired into her…I turned away as I lay at his feet. I thought the gun jammed and heard him reload. That’s when he hauled me off the floor pushing me into the adjacent wall … photos of our leadership hanging there, Jess one of them. Pushing the gun into my neck and spine. I begged to go home to my children. He petted my head and promised I would that I was doing everything right. He told me to take him to the door with the most people…I took him to the main doors of the unit tripping as he pushed me holding me as a shield praying I did not fall apologizing to him for tripping afraid he would finish me there. We made it out the doors after he slammed me head first into them…telling him to press the metal plate. I thought we would open the door to a single guard …

I was wrong as he pushed me into the entryway there was a wall of armed officers aimed at us. I couldn’t get down as they instructed I was held against the shooter’s body my arms bound. I did all I knew to go prayed and closed my eyes. The sound of gunshots rang out and the smell of smoke… the sound of empty shells echoing as the hit the floor. I eventually fell into the floor under the weight of the shooter’s body. The officers told me to run. I struggled to get out from under him … I remember his limp cold hand against my face as I pushed away with my feet. As I struggled to my feet I fell not once but twice slamming my head into the hard linoleum floor. It was then an officer managed to get a hold of me and guide me safely to the hospital’s ‘zen’ room. It was indescribable the scene in that room … the brave and selfless officers that extracted me: all of us … The hall was secured and I was then led down the back steps…

My account is just that mine. Sadly the experience doesn’t end there… I relive it when my eyes are opened and closed as I imagine any of us there that morning are. My oldest child, 12 years old is still asking if I will die and my youngest, 4 years old, is tearful when his Father leaves the room, I can only assume from not recognizing his mother. This not only affected us as staff but our spouses, children, and family whom also have a long road to recovery and yet it will always stay with us…my physical injuries do not even compare fractionally to what injuries are unseen.

I live with immense sadness and guilt of all who responded, their mental and physical injuries. Especially, brave Officer Andrew Duarte that gave his life to bring us home. I am eternally grateful and I have no words to extend to his grieving family and Mother; only immense thanks and and abundance of prayers.