The problems identified by the editors centre on the article’s reference list, the apparatus that connects any piece of scholarship to the wider body of knowledge it claims to build upon. According to the retraction note, multiple references were found to be incorrect or unverifiable, specifically those numbered 13, 7, 6, 4, 15 and 53. In plain terms, these citations either pointed to sources that did not match what the text claimed, or could not be traced to any verifiable publication at all. For a paper whose entire subject was the careful appraisal and utilisation of evidence in clinical settings, the irony is difficult to miss.

More serious still, the editors reported that several cited works could not be confirmed as existing publications at all. References 5, 12, 16, 47 and 48 fell into this category, raising the possibility that they were fabricated, a form of citation fraud that has become one of the most corrosive problems in modern scholarly publishing. In addition, the notice flags duplication: references 9 and 11 appear to be duplicates of references 49 and 53 respectively, an error pattern that suggests the bibliography was assembled without adequate verification or cross-checking.

Retractions of this kind follow a well-defined procedural pathway. When concerns about a published article surface, whether through reader complaints, post-publication scrutiny, or internal editorial review, the journal typically investigates with input from the authors and their institutions. If the concerns prove substantive and cannot be resolved, the editor may issue a retraction notice, which is permanently linked to the original article and indexed in bibliographic databases. The original paper remains online, but it is watermarked and cross-linked to the notice so that readers encountering it later understand its status. In this case, the retraction note is itself the version of record now attached to the study’s digital object identifier.

The author responses, or lack of them, form a notable part of the record. According to the notice, Ukpai Eze disagrees with the retraction, while David Agom did not explicitly state whether or not they agree with it. None of the remaining authors responded to correspondence from the publisher about the retraction. This pattern, partial dissent combined with widespread silence, is not unusual in retraction cases, but it complicates the narrative. Disagreement from one author does not overturn an editorial decision, yet it signals that the underlying facts may be contested within the authorship itself, and it leaves readers with an incomplete account of how the problematic references came to be in the manuscript.

The original study sat at the intersection of two consequential fields: nursing management and knowledge translation. Evidence-based practice, the discipline of grounding clinical decisions in the best available research rather than in tradition or habit, depends heavily on leaders who can find, appraise and deploy research findings within busy hospital environments. Nurse managers in acute care settings are often the practical gatekeepers of this process. They decide which guidelines gain traction on the ward, which training programmes receive time and resources, and whether research findings actually change bedside practice. A study describing their strategies for knowledge utilisation would, if reliable, be of genuine interest to hospital administrators, nursing educators and health policy researchers alike.

That is precisely why reference integrity matters so much in a paper of this kind. A qualitative or mixed-methods study of management practice does not stand alone; it interprets its findings through the lens of prior literature on organisational behaviour, knowledge management and clinical leadership. If the citations anchoring that literature are wrong, invented, or duplicated, the interpretive framework collapses. Readers cannot check the intellectual lineage of the claims. Systematic reviewers, who rely on accurate reference lists to map research landscapes, may be misled into counting phantom publications as real evidence. In fields that directly inform patient care, such distortions carry a cost beyond academia.

The case also illustrates the technical standards that journals now apply when auditing bibliographies. Verification typically involves checking each citation against publisher databases, digital object identifier registries and indexing services such as PubMed and Crossref. A citation that resolves to no matching title, author combination or journal is flagged as unverifiable. Duplicated references, where the same work appears under two different entries, are detected through title and author matching. Incorrect references, where the cited source exists but does not support the claim attributed to it, require closer reading. The granularity of the BMC Nursing notice, citing specific reference numbers by category, reflects this systematic audit and serves as a public accounting of what was found.

For the wider research community, the episode is a reminder that the credibility of a paper rests on layers of verification that most readers never see. Peer review, however rigorous, does not always include exhaustive reference checking, and the sheer volume of global publishing has strained the capacity of editorial offices to catch every anomaly. Automated screening tools, reference-matching software and post-publication scrutiny have all grown in importance as complements to traditional review. Retraction, once seen as a catastrophic rarity, is now understood as a routine corrective mechanism, a sign that the system’s error-detection is functioning rather than that science itself is failing.

What remains after the retraction is a cautionary document. The original article, published in March 2025, is now permanently linked to a notice that dismantles its evidentiary scaffolding, and the journal’s stated loss of confidence in its data and conclusions stands as the authoritative record. For nursing researchers, the lesson is procedural: every citation must be verified against the actual source, and authorship carries responsibility for the bibliography as much as for the findings. For clinicians and managers who might have drawn on the study to shape evidence-based practice initiatives, the retraction is a signal to look elsewhere for guidance. And for readers of science journalism, it is a demonstration that the machinery of correction, slow and unglamorous as it is, does eventually turn, even when the subject of the failed paper is the proper handling of evidence itself.

Subject of Research: Retraction of a nursing management study on evidence-based practice due to unverifiable references

Article Title: Retraction Note: Leading evidence-based practice: nurse managers’ strategies for knowledge utilisation in acute care settings

Article References: Ominyi, J., Nwedu, A., Agom, D., & Eze, U. (2026). Retraction Note: Leading evidence-based practice: nurse managers’ strategies for knowledge utilisation in acute care settings. BMC Nursing, 25(1), Article 883. https://doi.org/10.1186/s12912-026-05399-w

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.1186/s12912-026-05399-w

Keywords: retraction, BMC Nursing, evidence-based practice, nurse managers, research integrity, citation fraud, reference verification, acute care, knowledge utilisation, nursing research, publishing ethics, Springer Nature

The research team, led by investigators affiliated with institutions in China, conducted a qualitative descriptive study drawing on in-depth, semi-structured interviews with 24 registered nurses from five large tertiary hospitals in mainland China. To be included, participants had to have experienced at least one work-related musculoskeletal disorder requiring sick leave or medical intervention within the previous two years. The sample, recruited purposively for maximum variation, included 20 women and 4 men with an average age of 34.5 years and an average of 12.4 years of clinical experience, working in intensive care units, emergency departments, operating rooms, and medical and surgical wards. Interviews lasted 30 to 60 minutes each and were conducted between January and June 2025, either in private rooms or by video call, with participants choosing the setting that felt safest.

Methodologically, the team followed the six-step thematic analysis approach of Braun and Clarke, transcribing every recording verbatim, coding the first five transcripts independently with two analysts reaching consensus on a preliminary codebook, and managing data in NVivo 12. Recruitment stopped after data saturation: the coding framework stabilized after the twentieth interview, and the final four interviews added depth but no new categories. Reporting adhered to the 32-item COREQ checklist, and a summary of findings was shared with five participants for member checking as one of several credibility checks, alongside reflexive journaling and regular team discussion. The researchers, themselves experienced nurses, explicitly reflected on how their insider status could breed common-sense assumptions, a discipline that proved pivotal when they realized nurses’ guilt about burdening colleagues was structurally produced by the absence of institutional staffing backups rather than merely an individual emotional response.

From the analysis emerged three core themes and twelve sub-themes. The first concerned what the researchers describe as a fractured dual-track support system. On one track sat the hospital’s formal machinery: injury reporting, sick-leave approval, and return-to-work procedures that nurses experienced as standardized, opaque, and strikingly indifferent to subjective pain. Unless an injury showed up on a CT scan, participants said, their suffering was treated as insufficiently serious. One nurse, given the code N16, recalled asking for leave while her back pain left her unable to stand straight, only for an administrator to ask, Is it really that serious? Another, N2, described the reporting process as a pile of forms in which human resources staff cared about diagnostic certificates, not about whether the nurse could sleep at night. Pain, in that process, seemed simply to not exist.

On the second track of this fractured system was informal, relational support, and here the nurse manager emerged as the single decisive figure. Participants unanimously identified their manager as the key person determining the quality of their post-injury experience. A proactive, empathetic manager could shield an injured nurse from administrative pressure, rearrange shifts for weeks, and advocate up the hierarchy for maximum recovery time. An overwhelmed or indifferent manager, by contrast, amplified the organization’s neglect. One participant reported being told, when her back was failing, that everyone’s back hurts and she should hang in there because the unit was short-staffed. The consequence, the researchers found, was a support experience that depended less on institutional policy than on the temperament and capacity of one’s immediate supervisor, effectively leaving injured nurses hostage to local luck.

Collegial camaraderie proved to be a double-edged sword of particular scientific interest. Co-workers rushed to help lift and turn patients, and without this informal network many injured nurses said they could not have lasted a day on the ward. Yet this help came with a psychological cost: a strong sense of guilt and indebtedness that pushed nurses back to work while still in pain, a textbook driver of presenteeism, the practice of attending work while unwell. One nurse described lying at home on sick leave, consumed by worry about whether the unit was going crazy and whether colleagues were talking behind her back, concluding that this pressure was worse than the physical pain itself. The researchers interpret this as evidence that informal support, however warm, cannot substitute for institutional solutions, because its relational price compounds rather than relieves the injury’s burden.

The second major theme exposed a chasm between what organizations said and what they did. Hospitals that proclaimed employees their greatest asset communicated, at the moment of injury, a fundamentally transactional message. Nurses reported that human resources calls checking in on them felt focused on the vacant position rather than the injured back. More concretely, participants described an implicit penalty for being injured: performance pay and year-end bonuses tied to attendance meant a month of sick leave translated directly into significant financial loss, and in some departments 15 or more days of leave disqualified nurses from year-end awards or promotion consideration. No explicit policy punished injury, yet nurses felt like flawed assets, disadvantaged in career progression and wary that managers saw them as physically unreliable. Compounding this, participants pointed to long-standing failures of prevention, with patient lifts broken or too cumbersome to use, ergonomic training reduced to annual theoretical formality, and no practical, ward-based instruction on moving agitated patients safely in confined spaces. Many concluded their injuries were avoidable.

The third theme traced the long arc of these experiences into professional identity and career trajectory. Feeling abandoned at their most vulnerable shattered what participants described as the psychological contract with their employer. Nurses who had once felt collective pride began to see themselves as replaceable cogs, and trust, once broken, did not return; several described emotionally detaching, working their shifts and collecting their salary while no longer treating the hospital’s fortunes as their own. For many, the injury and its aftermath became a catalyst for serious thoughts of leaving the position or the profession entirely, particularly among nurses in their early thirties confronting a lifetime of pain and medication. There was also a subtler erosion: weakened professional identity. Nurses who could no longer perform basic care without pain began to doubt their own competence and value, caught in the dissonance of being caregivers unable to care for themselves. And in the absence of any structured support, they had to become their own advocates, fighting alone for reasonable adjustments and negotiating with administrators, an exhausting emotional labor layered on top of physical injury.

Viewed through Organizational Support Theory, which holds that employees’ perceptions of how much their organization values their contributions and well-being drive commitment, engagement, or alternatively burnout and turnover, these findings carry a sharp theoretical point. The problem was not simply insufficient support but fractured support: relational warmth from managers and colleagues partially met nurses’ socioemotional needs, while formal systems signaled that their contribution was valued only when they remained fully productive. That mismatch weakened trust, affective commitment, and retention intention, exactly the negative outcomes the theory predicts. The authors argue the implications extend from ward to policy: hospitals should invest in lifting equipment, ergonomic redesign, practical training, and adequate staffing; should establish standardized, phased return-to-work programs specifying duties, duration, and assessment criteria; should protect injured nurses from disproportionate financial penalties, potentially through centralized occupational-health compensation; and should train nurse leaders to respond with advocacy rather than normalizing working through pain. National guidance on occupational injury management in healthcare, they suggest, is needed to make such standards consistent.

The study’s limitations deserve note. The sample came from large tertiary hospitals in a specific region of China, so findings may not generalize to smaller or primary care facilities. Retrospective interviews are vulnerable to recall bias, and the perspectives of hospital administrators and human resources personnel, whose behavior loomed so large in participants’ accounts, were absent; the authors call for multi-stakeholder research to complete the picture. Still, for a workforce already strained by shortages and rising demand, the message lands with force. Post-injury support, the researchers conclude, should be treated as a workforce-sustainability issue rather than an administrative chore. When a nurse’s back fails and the organization’s response is a pile of forms and a docking of pay, the loss is measured not just in one injury but in the slow unraveling of loyalty, identity, and ultimately the clinical workforce that patient care depends on.

Subject of Research: Organizational support experiences of Chinese nurses after work-related musculoskeletal disorders

Article Title: The Experiences and Perceptions of Organizational Support Among Chinese Nurses Following Work‐Related Musculoskeletal Disorders: A Qualitative Descriptive Study

Article References: Sunzi, K., Lin, Y., Huang, Q., Guo, L., Yang, Z., Li, F., Zhou, W., & Lei, C. (2026). The Experiences and Perceptions of Organizational Support Among Chinese Nurses Following Work‐Related Musculoskeletal Disorders: A Qualitative Descriptive Study. Nursing Open, 13(9), Article e70793. https://doi.org/10.1002/nop2.70793

Image Credits: AI Generated

DOI: 10.1002/nop2.70793

Keywords: nursing, musculoskeletal disorders, organizational support, qualitative research, occupational health, presenteeism, return-to-work, nurse retention, China, nurse managers, ergonomics, health workforce