What I Received for Nurses Week

It was the first day of Nurses Week. And it was also my first day back after a medical episode - a blackout that had occurred just days earlier.

In prior years, our supervisor handed out small tokens of appreciation; snacks, candles, or other small gift items. This year, I received something very different.

That Monday morning, I arrive to find a large supply box placed directly beside my desk in the classroom - where it was clearly intended to be seen. I had been requesting basic teaching supplies for months: catheter kits, urine drainage bags, catheter tubing, crutches, and other items. These were frequently reported as "missing" or "stolen." I was told supplies were routinely shuffled between sites by the maintenance man - who, notably, is also the administrator's husband - instead of being restocked properly.

So when the box finally arrived, I opened it just before class began, thinking it might contain what I'd been waiting for.

It did.

But right on top - in a bright pink, gift wrapped Amazon box - was a non-medical, inappropriate item that had absolutely no place in a classroom. A sex toy. Specifically, a dildo.

I opened it in front of my students - on camera -  minutes before I was scheduled to begin teaching a lesson on professionalism.

Underneath that box? All the items I had been requesting. Crutches. Catheters. Drainage bags. Catheter tubing.

The timing wasn't just inconvenient,. It was calculated.

This Wasn't the First Time.

Weeks earlier, I had been filling in at another training site. My students and I entered the classroom and were stunned to find a non-clinical substitute device already staged on the table, set up as if it were an approved teaching tool.

The students stopped in their tracks. So did I.

I did my best to recover - I explained that we did not have the correct training part available and that someone else must have set it up. I apologized to the class and tried to move forward. But, I was humiliated and worried for days that a student might post about the experience or question my professionalism.

That moment deeply disturbed me - and it was a turning point.

My Objections Were Clear.

From the very beginning, I had made it known that I was not comfortable using unapproved substitute tools in training - especially items that are not anatomically correct or appropriate for a professional setting. 

I said no, repeatedly. I expressed that I found it unprofessional and unacceptable. I was told "other trainers use it" and "oh come on, t's funny." I was pressured. I tried to normalize it, even joked once about what would happen if we got pulled over with it - because that's what people do when they're trying to survive in a coercive environment.

At one point, I may have reluctantly agreed just to end the conversation. But weeks before that box appeared, I gave a final, clear, professional NO.

And They Sent It Anyway. Gift Wrapped.

Someone had to manually select the "gift" option when ordering it. That detail is not accidental - it's intentional.

And what makes this worse is that the person responsible knew parts of my personal history. I had shared with my direct supervisor, in confidence, that my daughters were survivors of sexual abuse. One of them - my daughter's half sister, who I loved and cared for like my own - later died. She wasn't my biological daughter, but she was family. I shared that because I trusted her.

And that trust was exploited.

But I didn't react outwardly. I waited until the students were taking an exam. Quietly, I documented the contents of the box. I took a photo. Not out of fear - but to preserve evidence. Because that's what this was.

This wasn't a delivery error. It was a message.

I filed a formal report. Calmly. Professionally. I gave them the opportunity to acknowledge it and make it right.

They didn't.

So I escalated. I called it what it was: Sexual Harassment.

This was my "gift" for Nurses Week:

Not appreciation. Not respect. Not support. Just an inappropriate item, delivered with intent, in front of students, on surveillance, on the day I returned from medical leave, right before I was supposed to teach professionalism.

I'm still here.

And now, so is the truth.

See image below: box found on top of medical training materials shortly before class.