Thank You Nurses

I want to tell you about Big Jake and Kelsey (names changed for privacy). “Big” is not an adequate descriptor of Jake. “Big” didn’t even begin to cover it. He towered over everyone on the floor. He was almost as wide as he was tall. Looking at him, you knew he was solid muscle, not flabby. A better word to describe his presence was imposing. Really, he was built more like a bouncer at a popular club who could handle himself if patrons got out of hand. He had a full beard and a handful of visible tattoos. He looked rough and intimidating.

Kelsey looked to be about 30 years old with an average build. The thing that was the most noticeable about her was her demeanor. She was a beautiful woman, but I’ll get more into Kelsey in a minute.

After spending several hours at one hospital, it was determined that they could not care for my child and we were transferred by ambulance to another hospital. Doctors and nurses came in and out. Sometimes they asked questions. Sometimes not. I sat that way for hours. Was I supposed to do something? Was I supposed to wait? Sometimes there was a flurry of frenzied activity and sometimes it was so quiet you could hear the lights buzz. And then everything happened all at once. An orderly came in gathered things up, threw them on the gurney, and started to wheel my child away.

“Wait! Wait! Where are we going?”

A nurse materialized, “We are taking him to neurotrauma. We need to monitor him more closely for a while.”

A doctor was by my side, “Has there been any change?”

“Um, no. No, I don’t think so. He’s mostly just sleeping.”

NO explanation as the elevator doors closed.

My son woke just long enough to be aware that he was moving, “Mom?… Mom!….. Mom!!”

“I’m here baby.”

We rode the elevator up and a couple people helped to transfer him to a bed in a private room. They were gone as quickly as they had materialized, and I was left standing alone with my child quietly unconscious on the bed.

Now what?

I couldn’t do anything. It was dark now. It must have been late. I turned on the TV but beyond the power button, the remote seemed broken. The dialogue was inaudible and it was in a foreign to me language anyway. I was physically exhausted but I couldn’t sleep. I was exhausted but afraid to close my eyes. I walked to the doorway of the room. There was a room across the hall that was dark. The one adjacent to me too. We were only two doors down from the nurses’ station. I walked into the hallway and turned right. I walked until I ran out of hallway and then doubled back the way I came. I walked down to the other end of the hallway, past the nurses’ station, and back. I was afraid to walk too far away in case my child woke up. Or something happened. I got back to our assigned room and sat down on a bench that was supposed to double as a bed. Everything ached. I had not realized that every part of my body was tense. I had been anticipating something all day. My whole body was on high alert, and I hadn’t noticed until now. Right then, Kelsey walked into our room.

“Hi, I’m Kelsey. I brought you a toothbrush, toothpaste, brush, and washcloth with soap.”

I saw her. I heard her. I don’t think I comprehended her. She left the toiletries on the desk and sat down next to me. She just sat there. Her presence was comforting and I could feel myself start to relax. She handed me a sticky note with a number on it.

“Call that, they can bring you something to eat. The cafeteria is open 24 hours. You must be hungry.”

She took care of things before I even knew I had a need. I hadn’t thought about it, but I hadn’t eaten in over twelve hours.

She just knew.

I got some food, I brushed my teeth and was watching my baby sleep when Kelsey walked back in with a pillow and blanket. Her timing was impeccable. How did she know? No matter, I curled up and fell asleep watching my son and listening to the beep of the monitors.

I don’t know what time it was but it was still dark outside when I was jarred awake by some sort of alarm. The patient across the hall was in some sort of distress. I walked to the doorway of my room in time to see the patient rushed away. A woman I would presume was the patient’s mother was left standing in the hallway, alone. Kelsey seemed to appear out of nowhere and put her arm around this woman. She walked with her and spoke to her. I watched from my doorway as they walked slowly down the hall. I was wide awake and sleep wasn’t coming back anytime soon but I had no idea what to do.

I walked. Alone. As I was walking the halls, I saw Jake sitting on a child’s hospital bed. He was playing a video game with the child. As I watched for a moment, Kelsey walked up.

“No one better with them than him.”

I looked at Kelsey as she continued with the explanation I didn’t know I was looking for.

“He can get patients to cooperate when no one else can. He’s our quiet miracle worker.”

We walked back to my son’s room and she told me about Jake. Her description made him sound like a warm blanket on the coldest night. Soothing, reassuring. Jake received more personal notes of thanks from patients than anyone else in the hospital. He was just that good with the pediatric patients. She brought me a cup of tea before going back to her other responsibilities.

In the morning, we couldn’t get my son to eat. They had a couple of procedures they needed to do. Jake sat with my child and like magic, he followed the doctor’s directions, somewhat begrudgingly, but he did it. He ate a small breakfast. He completed the next round of examinations with poking, prodding, and some awful things that still give both of us nightmares. Jake sat with us the whole time. He spoke to my son like no one else could.

When they finally discharged us, Jake and Kelsey were there. Kelsey explained all the things the doctor didn’t have time to tell me. She talked about symptoms, behaviors, what to watch for, and what would constitute an emergency. She made time for me. She knew as a mom I had all kinds of questions that I didn’t know I had. She told me with kindness, patience, and never once did she make me feel like I was dumb. Jake talked to my son as they played video games. It finally occurred to me why Jake was so miraculous. He never pushed. He never demanded. He was there on the child’s level. He backed the child up and advocated for them in a way the parent couldn’t. How could someone so imposing be so gentle?

This might not seem like a very big deal, so why am I telling you this? It’s Nurse Appreciation this month. These two people, more than anyone else took the most traumatizing experience of my child’s life and made him feel safe. They took one of the scariest things a parent can experience and helped me process it and deal with it. They anticipated needs. They took care of big things without being asked. They cared in the best way. They temporarily shouldered the heaviest burden I had known to that point and walked with me. The doctors did a lot to save my son, but the nurses were special and miraculous in an unrecognized way. This is my opportunity to say thank you.