Nursing Voices
The Stories
New! Quotes from the Men in Nursing survey
Deborah, RN, PhD
Jennifer, RN, LNC
Carole, RN
Dennis, EdD, RN
Kate, RN
Kathy, RN
Tamra, RN
Kathy, RN
Shawna, BSN
Terri, RN, ADN
Pamela, PhD, RN, BC
Corky, RN
Tonda, RN
Phyllis, RN, BSN
Sandy, RN
Karen, RN, BSN
Maribeth, RN, PHR
Alisa, RN, BSS CCRN
Mary, BSN
New! Barbara, RN, BS, CNAA
New! Susan, ADN
New! Kathleen, BSN
New! Jennifer, MSN, RN
New! Bobbie, RN, MS, CPNP
Deborah, RN, PhD
Oregon Center for Nursing
Portland, Oregon
27 years as an RN
A most memorable moment in my nursing career was the privilege of helping to launch the Oregon Center for Nursing in 2001. It is so gratifying to see the profession united around a common cause, the nursing shortage, and aggressively implementing creative solutions. We are a "force to be reckoned with" when we stand together. I know that not only will the profession will be healthier, but in the future, Oregonians will receive the very best health care because of our hard work now. I can't imagine a better time to be a nurse.
Jennifer, RN, LNC
Northside Hospital & Heart Institute
St. Petersburg, Florida
A Celebration of Life
Right about the time of the 2000 World Series, when the Yankees were playing the Mets, there was a patient who had been on the oncology unit for about a week. She was nearing the terminal end of her battle with breast cancer. There were rumors that her family was demanding and unappreciative. I came to work after a few days off and I was assigned to take care of her (and her family!) for my shift. I took a deep breath and ignored that nagging feeling in my gut, as this was part of being a nurse. It's more than taking care of the patient -- it's about their families as well -- especially on an oncology unit. I started my rounds. I saved her for my last stop. Her family had not yet arrived for the day, so I got her cleaned up and fed her breakfast. She was anxiously awaiting her family's arrival, feeling shiny and new. As I began my 8 a.m. med pass, I saw her husband go into her room. When I walked out of another patient's room, he was waiting for me not looking happy at all. He immediately jumped on my case because he couldn't find her teeth! I took a deep breath, and then explained to him that they were in her mouth because I had already fed her breakfast. A huge smile appeared on his face and he exclaimed “God Bless You!” as he gave me a huge hug. Their youngest son was due to arrive that day from out of state and he wanted his wife looking her best. Throughout the day, I met all four of her children, and their families. I heard stories over the next week about life growing up with their mother. The week had become a celebration of her life in stories. The stories I remember most were about “game night.” Any night the NY Yankees played, they all had to fend for themselves for dinner. She once kicked her youngest son's best friend out of the house because he told her that he didn't like the Yankees. These stories were popular because this year the Yankees were in the World Series. As the week progressed, T-shirts, hats, and memorabilia for the Yankees showed up in her room. Each day, her health seemed to decline. The last night of the World Series -- the Yankees won! Less than 6 hours later, my patient died in her sleep. Her family jokes that she was hanging on to see the Yankees win. About a week later I received a letter in the mail from her husband, thanking me for the care that I provided his wife during her last few days. I still send him a letter about once a year, and he always writes back. This family changed my life. When I think about why I became a nurse, it was for times like that -- getting patients and families through hard times in their lives.
Carole, RN
Director of Employment
High Point Regional Medical Center
High Point, North Carolina
When I was teaching Nursing, I distinctly remember a very introverted student. On the first day of her clinical experience, this shy girl stood outside of the patient's room with her knees knocking together. She was only going in to introduce herself and talk with the patient, but to say she was very nervous was an understatement. I spent some time speaking with her, and with careful guidance, she finally found the courage to enter the room. Two years later, I presented her with a Clinical Excellence Award at her nursing graduation and reminded her of the event. It was wonderful to see her come such a long way in a short time!
Dennis, EdD, RN
Forsyth Medical Center Endowed Chair of Recruitment and Retention
Winston-Salem State University
Winston Salem, North Carolina
I met Allen and Agnes when Allen was admitted on my unit with suspected GI bleeding. He had recently turned 64, sold his fiberglass company in New York, retired, and bought a home in Florida. Both were excited about their first "snowbird" flight for a warm winter in Florida. Upon completing the GI work-up, Allen was diagnosed with colon cancer. Exploratory surgery was attempted, but they immediately closed the wound, said there was nothing they could do, and estimated a 6-month survival period. During their stay, I realized that Allen and Agnes were very concerned with protecting each other from the reality of the diagnosis. Both agreed they had never been ones to share their personal feelings openly - even with each other. I discussed with each that while they may have viewed this as a "protecting behavior," it was time to really share with each other their true feelings. Allen was discharged back to New York and in two months I received a call from Agnes. She informed me that Allen had died quickly in the night from a stroke and not from the colon cancer as was expected. She was appreciative of the care she received on our unit and said that they shared and talked more in those two months than they had previously done throughout their 44-year marriage. As nurses, we think it's all about making people live, but some of the most satisfying experiences in my career have been assisting families and loved ones to successfully adapt to death.
Kate, RN
Vice President
Bernard Hodes Group Health Care Division
Raleigh, North Carolina
The year was 1979. I was 23-years-old and had been an RN for two years. As a member of the Air Care search and rescue team in southeastern Louisiana, one RN and a pilot flew out to whatever calamity might occur, from a car wreck to the activities of the “knife and gun club”, to the extreme trauma inflicted through the work done on the offshore oil rigs. That hot summer night was my seventh consecutive 12-hour shift for the flight team. I was exhausted -- emotionally and physically. This last shift had been grueling. Three flights -- all industrial trauma -- all died of their injuries within a few hours, despite our best efforts. When we landed offshore, Bill, my pilot, asked if I was ok. As a rule, I had learned to “grin and ignore it”, so I told him that I was fine. However, when I saw our patient, my heart sank. This young man had been severely injured in a fall from a crane. He had extensive head, chest and abdominal injuries, in addition to bilateral broken legs. He looked like a battered rag doll. He was breathing -- barely, so I got him into a neck collar and on a backboard to stabilize his spine. I started an IV and applied MAST trousers to splint his legs and retard abdominal hemorrhage. Then we were off -- after mere minutes on site. I continued my assessment as we flew towards the hospital, called in for additional orders and to alert the trauma team to our expected arrival time. My patient had a dire coma scale -- he showed no signs of consciousness and he was not even responding to deep pain -- both very poor signs for recovery. As I worked on the young man, I began to talk to him to keep myself calm. I told him my name, what had happened to him, where we were taking him and that he was pretty banged up, but that he would be fine. When I was not doing a procedure, I held his hand, chattering all the while and consistently telling him to hang on. When we arrived at the hospital, I gave my report and turned him over to the surgical team. I fully expected him to die in the next few hours. He was still in the operating room when my shift ended two hours later. Our shifts were week on/week off, so I headed home with a heavy heart. During the next seven days, I did everything I could to forget about work and to have some fun. When I reported to duty a week later, there was a message for me to call ICU. I spoke to Donna, the night charge RN. “Oh yeah, we have a guy up here that has been asking for you, Kate. Come on up.” YES - it was my patient from the week before. He was still looking terrible and had a long way to go toward recovery, but when I stepped in to see him, he said, “I thought I was dying, then I heard you telling me not to give up, that I would be ok. Thanks for being there with me.” I was in tears, grateful that he had survived and amazed that he had heard me. From that day forward, I spoke to every patient -- even those who were unconscious, careful to always impart a message of hope. It was a powerful lesson.
Kathy, RN
Director of Nurse Recruitment
UC Davis Hospital
Sacramento, California
For years I have done outreach to promote careers in nursing; going to various grammar and high schools to explain the variety of work that nurses do. I was touched to realize a glimmer of my life's work last week, when two students that I met years ago at school functions walked into my office and applied for nurse extern positions. Both had chosen nursing school and said my presentations were one of the influences that had convinced them.
Tamra, RN
Past Nurse Student of the Year
North Carolina Association of Nursing Students
"Nursing in its purest form is uncomplicated. We care for our patients and hope to make their lives better, even if it is only giving them a little comfort in their last moments. I watched a nurse gently stroke the fine tuffs of hair on her patient's head during his last minutes. He was alone with no family, no legacy to leave behind. I watched as the pain eased from his face while he listened to the lullaby she hummed. In the end, it was the nurse who made the difference in his life. She treated him with the dignity and respect that we all deserve ... If only for a few minutes, the comfort and peace gave him the strength to face his mortality." This is only one example of what nurses do. It's an example of the very essence of the nursing spirit and who we are. Nursing needs people who care for people. Nursing needs people who are willing to lead and want to make a difference in others' lives.
Kathy, RN
Seattle, Washington
29 years as an RN
My patient was a single mother of a 13-year-old daughter. She was in the hospital on the other side of the state from where she lived and had just received a diagnosis of inoperable cancer with a short time to live. I supported her mother and sister at different times as they cried on my shoulder, burned CDs for the daughter and brought the mother the book Tuesdays with Morrie.
We talked about the unfairness of life and I offered suggestions on making tapes and journals for her daughter to read and listen to as she grew up and came to the life events of dating, college and marriage. When she was ready to sign out AMA, I helped coordinate a lateral transfer back to a local hospital in her area, so she could be near her daughter and family at this critical time in her life.
Shawna, BSN
Lee's Summit, Missouri
17 years as an RN
I got into the nursing profession 100% because of my mother. She had been an RN for many years when I began nursing school. Although she never pressured me into the profession, her love for it made nursing an easy choice for me early on.
I watched her as she struggled as a Director of Nursing, then moved herself into a case management role with the State, due to the overwhelming stress and hours of being a DON, not to mention the bleeding ulcer! But, she never stopped loving nursing and always told me that being a nurse wasn't a job, it was a calling, and she continued to emphasize that to me as I struggled through nursing school and in my first staff nurse positions.
My mom worked as a state employee for 28 years before her "retirement" almost 10 years ago now, and I will never forget my parents' excitement as they moved to a lake resort area to retire. She called me after a trip they made to their new home to look for a little part-time job to help off-set moving expenses. The phone call went like this:
"Hi, it's Mom! I just called to tell you I got a job!"
"Great," I replied "are you working in a jewelry store, or clothing store?", thoughts of discounted clothes and jewelry running through my head!
"Nope," she said, "I'm the new full-time evening shift supervisor in the little nursing home here!"
After I told her she was absolutely out of her mind, I thought to myself, well, of course she'd stay in nursing. How can she give up her calling? She called me a few days later after having stuck her first IV in over 25 years on the first stick! She continues to work 3 days a week in the same nursing home at the age of 67, has been employee of the month numerous times and is a true unsung hero in her facility. Any time I hear a nurse talk about being burned out, or I feel a bit that way myself, I think about my mom and it immediately renews all those feelings of pride for my profession … my calling!
Terri, RN, ADN
Elkhart, Indiana
12 years as an RN
As a graduate nurse in the ER, I was the low man on the totem pole. I got stuck working every holiday known to man. My first Christmas Eve as a nurse and I was spending it working the night shift with one other nurse. We were really slow that night and were busy stocking rooms when the call came from our Motorola. We had a three-month-old coming in full arrest.
When the ambulance arrived, we got to work. We started an intraosseous line, intubated the baby and worked feverishly to get some signs of life. It wasn't meant to be. The code was called an hour after she arrived. I had to go with the physician to tell her mother she hadn't made it. The physician said, "I'm sorry, there was nothing we could do," and promptly walked away. The mother burst into tears and looked at me for comfort. I hugged her and told her that her baby was with the angels right now. I brought a rocking chair into the trauma room and let her hold her baby one last time. I went home that night and kissed my children, thankful they were okay.
The next day, I didn't know how I was going to be able to go back to work and face the sadness that my job entailed. When I arrived on the unit, a little boy was waiting for me. I had helped him get through sutures the week before by singing "Winnie the Pooh" with him. His mom said he had to come to give me a candy cane and say thank you for helping make his first visit to the hospital a bit less threatening. His big smile, quiet thank you and sweet hug were enough to make me realize that although this profession can be emotionally difficult, the little things we nurses do for our patients can make such a huge impact. I loved being able to make a difference in people's lives--during the sad times as well as the happy times.
Pamela, PhD, RN, BC
Stanley, North Carolina
29 years as an RN
After one of North Carolina's devastating hurricanes (HUGO) in 1989, we saw power outages in the Charlotte area lasting weeks. For me, it was day 7.
I was called by a neighbor screaming. Two line workers were electrocuted working on the power lines to my home. Both victims were on the ground. I made a quick decision to perform mouth-to-mouth and CPR. I began CPR on one of the lifeless victims; my husband, also an RN, began CPR on the other. It seemed to take forever until EMS arrived. CPR and defibrillation continued during transport to the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital (where I worked), the gentleman I had performed CPR on was sitting up talking! He said he knew who I was because he could see me working over him. What a miracle. I found out later both were from another state working in NC to restore power.
Corky, RN
Manager of Strategic Recruitment
Atlantic Health System
Morristown Memorial, Overlook Hospital, Mountainside Hospital
Is Anybody Out There?
-excerpt from an article originally published in Nursing Spectrum, April 19, 2004
As a nurse, I have been reminded once again that someone is always out there. As a family crisis took over our lives, turning it upside down, I was reminded each day that someone was out there. Searching for answers, listening to every word the doctors said, and waiting for that moment of hope, I always felt someone was out there. For every time I felt alone, scared and unsure of what could be done to make sure the right choices were made, someone was there. For every time my friends and colleagues at work guided me through, with kindness and compassion, I knew someone was there. Each time a nurse walked into the room, I was thankful for their skills and expertise. But most of all for the compassion and patience given as they treated their patient as an individual.
And for that, I am thankful for all the nurses and health care professionals who dedicate their lives to delivering excellent quality care with compassion that etches positive memories in all the lives they've touched.
"Is anybody out there?" You bet there is.
Tonda, MSN, RN
Wilmington, North Carolina
As a young, student nurse, I was very proud to be among the health care professionals at the medical center university where I was going to school. It was my third week of clinicals, and I was finally over the initial shock and anxiety of being assigned to care for my patients.
My patient was an elderly man who was on the better side of his illness. I was awestruck with the nursing and medical staff on the cardiac step-down unit. My patient's doctor was a prestigious cardiologist, and I couldn't believe I was lucky enough to be caring for one of his patients. The RN caring for my patient told me Dr. X would be in shortly to discuss the patient's plan for discharge.
Things were going quite well that morning, and I was anxious to meet Dr. Cardiology. Soon, the physician came into the room and began talking with the patient and with me! He was a very distinguished man, and I swelled with pride as he began asking me questions about the patient and my opinion of how he was progressing that morning. I was actually acting like a real nurse and visions of my successful future swam in my head.
Before the doctor left the room, he turned to me and said, "Nurse, let's cut the IV now and see how the patient does." Wanting nothing more than to please the doctor and exhibit my professional skills and knowledge, I immediately reached into my pocket, removed my shiny new bandage scissors, and efficiently cut the IV tubing. As the IV bag began to spin out of control, the doctor and patient were being sprayed with Lactated Ringers. I was mortified and wished for immediate death. I closed my eyes and waited for the rage I knew was imminent, but instead, the doctor said, "Nurse, the next time you do that, you might want to turn off the pump and disconnect the IV from the patient."
Phyllis, RN, BSN
Nurse Recruiter
Duke University Medical Center
Durham, North Carolina
I became a nurse in July 1992. My husband died suddenly and unexpectedly in September, and my Dad died two weeks later. It was a very trying time to say the least.
As the months progressed, I was dreading the holidays. I came into work one evening for my 12-hour shift and someone said, "You have something special waiting for you."
I went to the nurses' station to find the largest, prettiest poinsettia I had ever seen. One of my patients and her husband had sent it to me as a thank you for the care I had given her. In the card, she said I had brought sunshine into her room every day with my smile. Their thoughtfulness brought tears of joy to my eyes and made my holidays a little brighter.
Sometimes, in the rush of every day, we forget the importance of basics. I was assisting an elderly patient with the bedpan. As you most likely know, that is always when the food trays come. After she finished with the bedpan, I offered her a warm washcloth so she could freshen up before breakfast. She started crying and gently said, "No one else has ever thought about that before and it means so much to me. Thank you." So you see, even the smallest things can make a difference in a patient's day.
Sandy, RN
Senior Vice President
Bernard Hodes Group Health Care Division
Seattle, Washington
At the end of May, it will be 40 years ago that I was a brand new RN graduate, ready to take on the world. My career in nursing has been one I have never, for one moment, regretted. The profession to me means knowledge, respect, success, hard work, smiles and tears. Most of my bedside career was in pediatrics, and the years I spent with babies and children are years I will never forget. Comforting a child in need, helping them to face the future and making a difference made me a better nurse and a stronger person. Here's one memorable encounter I still love to retell:
One evening, on a pediatric unit years ago, we were just swamped with admissions. In addition to the 36-inpatient beds, we had two solariums at the end of each hallway that could hold an additional five beds each when we were in an overflow situation. That is where we were on that evening--one I'll always remember with a smile.
We got a call about a little 6-year-old boy in the ER who needed to come right to the department so we could get him ready for surgery. His diagnosis? He zipped himself right into the zipper of his jeans. I was very careful when I went back and put another bed into the solarium, where there were already 3 other little boys close to his age. They asked what was wrong with the "new boy," but, of course, I didn't relay that information. I just knew this new admit would be very embarrassed with his "hanging zipper," as they had cut the rest of his jeans off in the ER.
When he got to the department, I took him back to his bed, expecting him to be shy about his situation. I was so wrong. As I was putting him into the bed, one of the little boys asked him what was wrong with him and he quickly stood up, lifted his gown and showed them! His words were, "Don't forget your underwear."
Karen, RN, BSN
Senior Vice President
Bernard Hodes Group Health Care Division
Seattle, Washington
Mrs. B
When I think back on my career in bedside nursing, one of the most inspiring stories that comes to mind is that of Mrs. B.
Mrs. B had suffered an acute CVA and was paralyzed on her right side. When she was first transferred from ICU to our medical unit at a teaching hospital in the Bronx, Mrs. B was comatose and in very grave condition. The interns and residents had declared her a DNR (do not resuscitate, for those not in the health care field). It appeared there was very little hope for this patient's survival, let alone recovery.
The nurses on my unit followed all the medical and nursing protocols for a patient with this diagnosis. We explained what we were doing for her when we cared for her, knowing she might hear us. However, we were not overly optimistic about her prognosis.
We were encouraged when Mrs. B's twenty-something daughter, who happened to be retarded, began to visit and brought in a radio and other items from Mrs. B's home. This daughter would play music for her mother and talk to her as though she was awake and able to participate in a normal conversation. She visited her mom for hours every day, chattering away the entire time.
Perhaps having dealt with so many patients who did not recover, we wished Mrs. B and her daughter well, but were not convinced she would survive, and worried her daughter would be devastated when she did die. We really thought Mrs. B's case was hopeless, based on our medical knowledge, experience, and all the information about the patient available to us.
I took a three-week vacation and when I returned, Mrs. B. was still on our unit. Except this time when I entered her room, she was sitting in a chair, combing her hair, and able to communicate with her daughter, who, unlike the health care professionals, had never given up, even in the face of insurmountable odds.
I never forgot Mrs. B or her daughter, who taught me a valuable lesson. Sometimes the human heart knows better than any charts, graphs, or laboratory analysis. And sometimes miracles do happen.
The Warrior
I was at a health care conference recently and heard the following story from an administrator at an Indian Health Service hospital in Arizona. We were asked to share stories that refuted pre-conceived notions.
This Navajo hospital administrator's granddaughter was a patient in her hospital and, at twelve years of age, was apprehensive about her first hospitalization. She had to have a blood sample taken and didn't have easily accessible veins, making the procedure painful. The nurse who was taking the sample told her he knew her Navajo name meant "warrior" and, therefore, knew she would be brave while the sample was being taken.
When the grandmother heard this story from her granddaughter, she was pleased and asked the girl to point out the nurse who had been so helpful, fully expecting the child to point out a Native American nurse. Instead, to the woman's surprise, her granddaughter pointed out an Anglo nurse, who had taken the time to learn some of the language to help him communicate with his patients and put them at ease.
Another shining example of a nurse using head and heart to communicate with and care for patients.
Maribeth, RN, PHR
Nurse Recruiter
Overlake Hospital
Bellevue, WA
24 years as an RN
Reflections on a Career in Nursing
Every single day as a nurse recruiter is an opportunity to reflect on an extremely varied twenty-four-year career as a Registered Nurse. The new graduates appearing with their first RN license in hand reminds me of waiting six weeks for the results and then receiving my notification by mail. I knew the larger size envelope meant I had successfully completed the two-day test. I ran screaming into my mom's living room, "I passed, I passed!" She was certain someone was trying to kill me that April 3rd in 1980. Times have certainly changed, as these new RNs sit in front of the computer screen answering their test questions and knowing almost immediately their results.
And yet, as I see their excitement and wonder at beginning their new career as a professional, I realize that so much is the same. Compassion and heartfelt caring does not change no matter the new technology and drugs. I remember standing at the side of a patient awaiting surgery, holding their hand and reassuring them as they received anesthesia. I was an RN circulator in the OR for many years. That still happens here every day.
We still embark on this journey to improve the health and lives of others through actions administered consistently and competently. We are dependable and reliable. We nurture and teach. We laugh and cry because the nature of our work can bring both emotions to us in a single moment.
I think of the many wonderful families who looked to me for guidance when I worked in Pediatric CVICU and took care of their newborns with serious heart conditions. One mother is an RN today because of the relationship we developed while I cared for her little boy, who had transposition of the great vessels. She decided there was no better path. And perhaps best of all, the student RN I hired in 1994 when I was a nursing director of three medical-surgical units. She now has my job and sits in my old office, and she still calls me to brainstorm issues as she works to lead her staff. No greater reward!
Nursing is the greatest of all callings and gives more opportunity for growth, change and challenge than any other career. The possibilities are endless still, even for this twenty-four year-veteran!
Alisa, RN, BSS CCRN
Charleston, South Carolina
21 years as an RN
As a flight RN with SkyMed in Columbus, Ohio, we received a call with the following report: "… 4-year-old versus bush hog …" That same fateful flight , we were being inspected by the FAA on a ride-a-long flight. A farmer had sat his daughter on the seat next to him as he plowed through a farm field one 100 plus degree June day. He turned to look after one pass and noticed she was not there. He placed the gear in reverse and backed up the bush hog …
We arrived and landed in a pasture with 30 plus cattle slowly walking towards the ship. The pilot tilted the blades to create a draft as we exited to retrieve our Thomas pack. The FAA inspectors were speechless, but very observant.
The child lay on an EMS blanket, a blur of many faces and hands racing against the eternal soldier--time. She had a steadily slowing heart rate and was rapidly intubated. She opened her eyes and gazed upward at us as I attempted to caress the hair from her eyes, as that was all that was recognizable. We bundled, immobilized and transported her to our soldier against time, our S-76, and hoped for a tail wind. She had porcelain skin and the color was quickly fading from her doll-like face … badly broken and mangled, but recognizable as a precious life.
We lifted off and continued our care. FAA inspectors making notes quietly … impossible to secure my seat belt for the entire flight. The recognizable changes from an ECG that rapidly blinked from a rhythm teetering on a tightrope to the malignant variety. She looked at us again, only briefly, and then …
Despite resuscitative measures by many experienced faces, hearts and hands at a fabulous children's hospital, she died 2 hours later--broken and battered by a formidable force of technology.
Anger surfaced towards the parent by family, bewilderment by staff, sadness by all. As we cried with them and internalized our thoughts and feelings, the distraught and hysterical father shared, "No matter what anyone thinks of me, I will live a hell every day knowing this was preventable."
Then he approached the team, sobbing, and asked our understanding and forgiveness, as well as thanking us for doing our best to save his daughter and expressing that he would remember us for not passing judgement.
Not a hot, humid summer goes by that I don't think about her and him. How my NREMT-P partner and I gave 200%, along with all the health team members from the scene to the ED. How judgement was the last thing on my mind at the time. I often reflect on the tragedy and the tremendous need for the emphasis on prevention. Were she alive, she would be about eighteen-years-old, about the same age as my niece. Would she be in college, an aspiring nurse, EMS, pilot?
I also recall the FAA inspectors crying at the hospital and later sharing that, "It seems so easy in theory, but …", and thanking us for what would prove to be positive recommendations and adjustments on the FAA's part for the future assessment of delivery model.
Mary, BSN
Brentwood, California
17 years as an RN
One night when I was working, we got the call he was going to get a heart. So, I spent almost my whole night getting him ready and we had fun talking about the things he was going to do when he recovered. I went to surgery with him and watched about half of the transplant before I was too tired and had to go home.
About 6 months later, he came into the CCU to say hi, because he hadn't been back as a patient for awhile. He had just gotten back from a cruise and wanted to come in to say thanks to the nurses.
Barbara, RN, BS, CNAA
Cambridge, Massachusetts
31 years as an RN
As a nurse for over 31 years, I remain moved and honored by the privilege I have being with individuals at their most vulnerable times. I work with seriously mentally ill people, those often struggling with a condition that is understood by very few, sometimes with behaviors that have frightened others and who never want to be seen only as their illness. Connecting with folks who struggle to find a way to live with a sometimes disabling disease, yet wanting the same things we all aspire to--friends, work, intimacy and a sense of home--has been humbling and makes me glad I can share a part of myself that allows others to feel accepted, safe and understood. I don't know of any other field that would have provided the opportunity to so directly be a human being with others.
Susan, ADN
Wall, New Jersey
15 years as an RN
I have been a nurse for 15 years. I really never wanted to be anything else. For me, nursing truly is a vocation. I believe, as Florence Nightingale said, that nursing is the finest art. In no other profession do you get to learn, understand and impact human beings as you do in nursing.
As a nurse, I have witnessed much that is good. I have also seen tragedy, pain and suffering. As a nurse, you can have a positive impact on all that you witness.
Most people don't understand what nurses actually do--the education, dedication and observations that are so critical to good nursing care. Simple or complex nursing care can make such a difference in the lives of not only the patients, but also their families.
I watch my colleagues as they work day to day--the compassion, intelligence and caring they possess amazes me every day.
Shortly before Christmas, I met a colleague in the hall as I was making rounds on nurses who are new to our hospital. I have known this nurse for a very long time. She knew my father-in-law as a patient. My friend worked for our CHF center making weekly screening calls to patients with CHF.
My father-in-law was very proud--he would always ask the nurses who called if they knew me, most did. My friends would tell me if they had spoken with him and what a nice man he was--always happy and joking. Even as his condition began to deteriorate, he was still friendly.
One of the screening calls triggered contact with my father-in-law's physician and he went for several tests. We were hopeful that this would call for the placement of a newer pacemaker that might make him feel better and allow him to return to some of the activities he was no longer able to do.
When I saw my friend that day on my rounds, she asked me how my father-in-law was doing. I told her what was going on and she told me the last time she talked to him he sounded different. I asked how and she said "different," "almost sad and weak."
I called my husband immediately. Worried, knowing that this could be serious, my husband called his father that night and went to see him two days later. He was not well, but was able to move around, and they did some chores around the house with my oldest son. My father-in-law told them stories about his high school basketball career--priceless time. I spoke to him several hours later and he thanked me for the chocolate chip cookies I had sent him, told me he ate almost all of them. I told him to slow down. When my husband got home, he told me that his dad told him he was tired and that this was a "hell of a way to go."
The next Saturday, my father-in-law passed away after visiting some friends. If I hadn't seen my friend in the hall that day, my husband and son may never have had the chance to spend that critical last day together. My husband and son are so happy for that day.
My friend knew something had changed. I think she knew my father-in-law was reconciling his death. After his visit, my husband sensed it, too. My friend doesn't know the magnitude of the gift she gave to my husband, son and, I am sure, his father. Sensing that subtle change gave my husband a day with his father he will never forget. That is what nurses do. It is not something you can see or explain. It is something you come to know and feel. You take action and people respond. My friend is awesome--she has always been an awesome nurse. She makes me proud to be a nurse. Nursing is truly the greatest profession, the finest art.
Kathleen, BSN
Brick, New Jersey
17 years as an RN
The most challenging situation I have addressed in my role as a registered professional nurse was while volunteering as a parish nurse. I belong to St. Dominic parish nurses of Brick. The Sister in charge asked for help visiting the homebound of our parish. I was assigned an elderly couple close to my home.
I will never forget the first day I went to visit. I knocked on the door and Cesare opened the door about an inch and yelled out "Who are you and what do you want?" I told him I was from St. Dominic Church. He asked me to repeat myself. I did and he replied, "I do not want to be bothered, come back another time." I did not let his negativity get me down. A couple of days went by and I made another visit. But this time, I brought cookies and this got me in the door.
When I stepped inside, what a mess I found in the home of this elderly couple. Marie sat in her chair and gave out orders. She was anxious and confused most of the time, asking the same questions over and over again.
I was asked to help them with their bills and paperwork. Since Marie was in charge, she was the one trying to pay bills from two or more years ago. Marie did not throw out anything. She had papers from several years ago she had to take care of. I was overwhelmed. I was used to a hospital setting, not home care, where you are on your own. I later found out their niece from Long Island, NY, paid all the bills.
Marie and Cesare never had children of their own. Marie was a schoolteacher and I never figured out what Cesare did for a living. He was the quiet one.
I made regular visits. Marie could never remember my name. I made a big poster with my name, address and phone number to help her remember. Marie was an artist and the entire house showcased all her work.
The visits were at a stalemate, so I decided to bring my children to visit. I noticed a change right away. My daughter would bring her dance costumes and put on a show for them to watch. My son would bring his artwork for Marie to critique. Marie would correct his work like she used to do as a teacher.
My family adopted them as our adopted grandparents. When I would visit on my own, they asked for the children. Patience was the best value my children leaned. They learned to tolerate Marie asking them over and over to repeat their names and write it down.
We went through many things with Marie and Cesare. At first, a home health aide would come a couple of days a week. The agency noticed they needed more care than this. In order for Marie and Cesare to stay in their home and not be sent to the nursing home, changes had to be made. Their niece had to get power of attorney. Marie and Cesare were very upset and violated that day. I remember being there to give them emotional support. It was hard to get them to understand that this decision was the best for them.
They had a 24-hour live-in to help them stay in their home as they wished. There was one visit I made and Cesare was not himself. He was in the bed during the day, which was very unlike him. I advised the live-in to call the niece to update her. Later that night, I was called back to assess Cesare's condition. When I arrived, there was a decrease in his condition. I advised the live-in to call 911. Cesare was admitted to the hospital and died a few days later.
My children loved him as if he was their grandpa and asked if they could attend the funeral. This was a big decision I had to make. Were they mature enough at seven- and 10-years-old? I read them a book to help them prepare to attend Cesare's funeral. They needed to be a part of this so they could have closure, too. We also visited the cemetery.
I was there to help Marie deal with the loss of her husband of 66 years. This was the first time I saw Marie leave their home. It was very emotional for her. She was very strong for most of it.
Marie now lived with a Russian woman in her home. She was much more relaxed with her new live-in. I went for my usual visit and she was in her chair reading. At 9 p.m. that night, I received a frantic call from her live-in that she could not get Marie off the floor. I rushed over there in my pj's to find Marie on the floor with a broken femur. I called 911 and her niece. Marie was admitted to the hospital that night. Both Marie and her live-in needed my guidance and I could not leave their sides. By 3 a.m., things had settled down and I brought her live-in home to rest. I had to work the next day. I was emotional and physically drained, and had to call out.
Marie was sent home to recover. She was confined to her room in a hospital bed. It was hard to visit her, not seeing her in her chair reading her books. We made the best of it and decorated her room at Christmas and sung Christmas songs. We even threw her a birthday party, with cake and all in her room.
After awhile, it was hard to visit her and see her slip away. I had a hard time going over to visit her. Months passed and I could not bring myself to make the visit. I would drive past her neighborhood, but could not bring myself to stop. Then, there was the phone call that Marie had died. I was heartbroken and relieved for her at the same time--now she could be with Cesare.
This was the most rewarding and challenging experience in my nursing career. During the brief couple of years we spent with Marie and Cesare, my family and I learned a lifetime of happiness from this very special couple. They came into our lives and brightened it in ways we could never repay them for. They never did remember our names, but they knew we brought a little happiness to their lives. The smiles on their faces told the whole story.
Jennifer, MSN, RN
Wall, New Jersey
27 years as an RN
Over 25 years of experience in the clinical arena of maternity nursing has given me hundreds of experiences that have made me proud to have chosen nursing as a career. It is my belief that the birth of each new child is a special and memorable event in the life of a family. I have been committed to providing compassionate care as I also truly feel that it is a privilege to be present for such an event with the family. I have received many cards and gifts from patients through the years thanking me for being there and saying they could not have done it without me.
Assisting a woman with the birth of her baby has always given me such an inspiration because no two are alike, and every day is a challenge and brings a smile to all. Making a difference in the lives of others is what our career is all about every day. Helping new mothers learn about their babies, breastfeed and become confident in their ability to care for their baby have been my goals as a perinatal nurse.
In my other role, I teach the staff and that also gives me many opportunities to make a difference in the lives of others. When a concept is learned and put into practice that affects our patients, I definitely feel that I make a difference.
The most important person that I impact now in the role of a nurse is my daughter. I recently had the opportunity to go to her school and promote the career of nursing and teach the students proper hand washing. The kids were fun and after class they all thanked me for teaching them how important clean hands can be. In the eyes of my daughter I "rocked," as she stated. That, to me, is the ultimate difference I could ever make in my life.
Bobbie, RN, MS, CPNP
Foxboro, Wisconsin
19 years as an RN
While I was working straight weekends in the Peds ICU, I picked up a part-time job as a home health case manager for complex children. I actually followed many of our patients home. One patient though, stood out more than any in my career. He was the fourth child, an emergency cesarean section due to a total hidden placental abruption. His apgar scores were 0 at one minute, 0 at 5 minutes, 1 at 10 minutes, and 2 at 20 minutes. He was a neurologically devastated baby--his mom and older siblings thought he was a miracle.
At first, he was so spastic that simply picking him up made him shriek in pain. I had to convince the pediatricians to prescribe a muscle relaxant for him. He started to pull out his NG tube, making him a risk for aspiration. I had to convince the pediatricians to place a gastrostomy tube.
Mom noticed while he was in the hospital that the heart monitor showed his heart seemed to “stop” sometimes. I told the doctors about this and they suggested that perhaps it would be a blessing if his heart did stop. I let them know that since they had pulled out all the stops to save his life when he was born, now was not the time to decide what would be a blessing, since his family had decided he was meant to live. He received his apnea monitor.
When he died, his mom called me to ask if she should call 911. The agency I worked for had taken photos of all the nurses with their patients for a slide show. Ironically, his funeral was the morning of the Christmas party, where they displayed the slide show. I think his life was meant to show his mom she was an extraordinary person--despite her pretty crummy life, she was one of the bravest people I've ever known. As a Pediatric NP who is hoping to be a doctoral student this fall, I hope to always fight for those who cannot.
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