You stopped me in the hospital hallway to see how I was doing. I didn’t remember you from a sedated procedure several days earlier, but I know that procedure couldn’t have happened without you. You were glad to see me up and walking and you wished me well in just the most genuine way. And even though I didn’t remember you then, I still remember you now. Thank you, Carmen.
You were my nurse in post-op. You kept showing up at my side reminding me to breathe. You were soothing and reassuring through severe pain, and you didn’t let them move me until I said I was okay to be moved. Thank you, Mary.
You were my nurse when I returned to the floor after surgery. You were very pregnant, as in when I was re-admitted two weeks later you were home with your new baby. You must have been exhausted, but you stayed past your shift to help me anyway. Thank you, Nicole.
You placed both my PICC lines. If you were at all frustrated when placement took longer than expected, you didn’t show it. Later, you were already out of scrubs and you should have been on your way home when you showed up to adjust my line so that the heart palpitations would stop. Thank you, Marie.
You knew that 23-year-old me was out of place in a ward mostly full of older adults with dementia, and you did your best to make me feel less alone. You were pregnant and I made a hat for your baby-to-be, and then a year and a half later, when I wasn’t even your patient, you made the time to talk with me and show me pictures of your baby boy. Thank you, Nicole.
You saved me from the hallway. You saw what no one else saw, that even though I was young and mobile, I was actually really sick. And later, after I spent days trying to get someone to solve a problem with my line, you took care of the problem within an hour of being on shift. I still think you have magic powers. Thank you, Rose.
You exuded competence and skill and I remember being shocked to learn you were less than a year out of nursing school. It was clear that you were deeply invested in your patients. You were on shift over Thanksgiving weekend and you gave me reason to be thankful. Thank you, Mallory.
You always spent extra time chatting with me. You told me stories that made me laugh, even on otherwise bad days. You most made me feel like just a person, not a patient trapped in the hospital. Thank you, Kristine.
You were quiet but so kind. Your presence always instantly put me at ease. After a stressful situation in the middle of the night with another patient in the room, you knew that I was shaken up and you put your own stress aside to talk me through it. Thank you, Cristina.
You were there for my first tunneled line placement. I wasn’t given sedation and I had no idea what to expect, but you asked me if I was okay every few minutes. And every time you saw my eyes scrunch up in pain you gently held my hand. I never got your name, but thank you all the same.
You were with me for 12 pretty scary hours of my life. I was alone in the ER and sicker than I realized, but you watched me like a hawk. You acted quickly when needed, yet were calm and cool the entire time. You were always one step ahead and I knew without a doubt that I was safe on your watch. Thank you, Ashley.
You did my TPN training. You taught me everything I needed to know to manage my own care and you were the reason I was able to go home. You were encouraging and accommodating and you will always have a special spot in my heart. I hope you’re enjoying retirement. Thank you, Sheila.
You’re my TPN nurse now. You care about fitting my medical routines into my life, rather than revolving my life around my medical routines. You’re the first health care professional who I feel truly understands and validates the challenges of life on TPN. Thank you, Jennifer.
You’re still a student. You’re smart and caring and sincere. You’ve spent hours listening to me talk about my experiences and you don’t even get course credit for it. You’re in this for the right reasons and your future patients are lucky. Thank you, Angela.
I’ve spent months of my life watching nurses at work. I’ve watched you take abuse from patients who don’t acknowledge your skills and training. I’ve watched you care for people who are careless towards you. I’ve watched you watch patients ignore everything you’ve said and then quietly deal with the fallout. I’ve watched you comfort people as you tell them that their loved one has died. I’ve watched you care for patients in ways that go beyond your job description. I’ve watched you struggle due to staffing shortages and budget cuts. I’ve watched you do all of this, while also juggling a seemingly impossible number of other responsibilities, with patience and grace. And dedication. And all too often without recognition.
I could have mentioned many more of you by name, but there are also a lot of you whose names I can’t remember. Just as all of the medical stuff has blurred together over the years, so too have your names and faces. Honestly, though, just the fact that you are able to do everything you do without me remembering you for the wrong reason is a feat of heroism. And name or no name, I know that you were there, and I know that you gave of yourself to help me and others like me during our most vulnerable moments, and that’s amazing.
And I am grateful.
Thank you, nurses.
15 thoughts on “Thank you, nurses (Nurses Week)”
Hi Catherine, I just found your blog this morning and I am now tearfully typing! I am also a Nurse, waiting the long Vancouver wait to see a Geneticist. After three years of fighting and trying to convince Doctors to believe that I am not a Psych case with severe hypochondria, I finally got to see a Doc who confirmed my suspicion of hEDs or somewhere on that hypermobility spectrum. I have had a myriad of issues all either appear or worsen in that time. Now, being a Nurse, I feel guilty for not being at work, even though I know I cannot cope with even half a day. Thank you for your words of appreciation, it means a lot. We often meet patients in the worst times of their lives, but never later, so we are not always thanked in the moment. I have put in nearly 40 years, but I still feel that my last few years before retirement have been stolen, so I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to hit all of this at the start of your life. Keep up the good work, you are inspirational! Debster.
So sorry to hear about your struggles, Debster. It’s tough at any age! And thank you for all your years of service as a nurse. I can’t imagine how hard it must be not being able to work, but know that you are still and will always be a nurse. And you can still live your life as a nurse and care about others with that same caring heart even without being at work. Wishing you well and hoping your wait isn’t too much longer.
What an amazing post. I love how you wrote everything and even if you didn’t remember a name you still remembered the person. You must be a really amazing human. I have only recently found out what TPN is and I can’t even begin to guess the challenges of long term TPN. I hope you know that even though we’ve never met you are in my thoughts and prayers. Weak words compared to what you face daily but I still want you to read them. Always remember you are amazing ❤️
Thank you, Catherine! This is absolutely the best Nurse Week post I’ve ever read. It brought tears to my eyes. I was also a nurse prior to all my chronic illness “stuff.” Before all the j-tubes & TPN, and crushing meds, and carrying around my 20 lb best friend, The Backpack (that I now feel a bit naked without).
You and I have actually talked before, but it has been quite some time, and in chronic illness land, time jumps in huge spurts sometimes (while also feeling like it will never get anywhere). Our medical stories are incredibly similar & I’ve been meaning to reach out since I read about your EDS/ex-EDS diagnosis…but that jumping time business!
Anyways, THANK YOU for the amazing post. You truly touch the lives of many.
Annnnnnd- the statement I made above about being a nurse “prior,” well, nursing is a lifetime calling. I may not work for money anymore, but these illnesses have given me the incredible opportunity to touch others and help others in ways that would be impossible with a full-time, “real” job.
Gosh, this is long! I’m sorry! Amazing post!! 💗
You are still a nurse, Kalina. You will always be one ❤
I have never been more proud to be a nurse Catherine than after reading these words.
Thank you for everything you do for others!
What a beautiful post acknowledging the amazing, caring and fantastic people who have nursed you.
I am one of the nurses privileged to have come to know Catherine. I can not forget her. I believe she is a special being that touches everyone who comes to know her in the most beautiful way. Despite going through such personal medical hardship, she rises above to spread kindness, compassion and empathy to anyone she meets or just smiles at. She has truly been a memorable patient to me, such spirit. Thank you Catherine for noticing, everything, but mostly for being you. You I can not forget. You are in my thoughts and prayers, Kristine
And thank you for being you. And for commenting because it made my day 🙂
Thanks Linda 🙂
I was a nurse before my chronic illness. Thank you.
I’m so sorry you had to give it up. I bet you still touch people with your kindness and giving spirit even though you’re no longer able to work the way you once were.