Written August 29, 2010  8:39 pm

Anita again slept through the night breathing with the aid of the ventilator.  Chest PT was performed during the night to assist with lung function, i.e. insure no build-up of secretions.  Steroid treatment program (2 doses) was continued today.  Anita rested during the morning, and visited with various family members for short periods in the afternoon.  Anita spent most of the day/evening breathing over the ventilator (i.e. ventilator assistance set at a low level), while maintaining appropriate CO2 levels.   The ventilator assistance level will be raised overnight to allow her to rest and sleep.  It is planned to continue with the ventilator weaning process in the morning.

There was a dry erase board on the wall near the window in my room. It was updated each shift with the name of the nurse assisting with my care.  An aid would waltz in, erase the current name, pull a marker out of her scrub pocket and fill in the blank following the semi colon.  Nurse:     
Observing this became an event for me.  What color will the marker be today?  Will the whole board get erased and then made anew with the aid's personal flair?  Will they leave a message?  A smiley face?  But the most pertinent question was, who will my nurse be?

There was one name I especially looked forward to seeing.  I'll call her Nurse "A".  When her name appeared I would have done a fist bump, a happy dance if I could.  She was such a caring individual.  She moved my stiff swollen limbs through their full range of motion and made sure to turn me every two hours.  She kept me informed of all medications and what they were for as she hung bags on my IV pole.  But she was more than just a nurse.  She told me about her family, her dreams for the future.  She was so relaxed, never rushed.  A slice of normal in this sterile, antiseptic environment.  The conversation was decidedly one sided but never the less it flowed.  I could only nod my head in response, but somehow she new what I was thinking, feeling.  She sensed when I was uncomfortable.  She asked about my family.  She was my friend.  We even shared a few laughs.  Sometimes when it was slow, she would offer to shave my legs or wash my hair.  I get teary when I think of the kindness she showed me.  One of the few faces that relayed peace and hope to me in the sea of helpless confused faces surrounding me.

Nurse "A" saw beyond the ventilator, IVs, catheters and my puffed up body.  She saw me.  She acknowledged my life.  I cook dinner, worry about my kids, take vacations, volunteer with the PTA.  Never condescending, she conveyed her friendship through her comfort level with me and my machines.  She looked at me with genuine accord, not worry or concern.  I wished I could go grab a cup of coffee, or better yet, a Coke with her and really talk.

It's easy for the infirm to get swallowed up in the chaos of hospital rooms, machines, medicines, tests and needles.  Thank God for people like Nurse "A" to soften the edges, make it bearable.  She has chosen to do what she loves and it shows.  I wished I could put her name on that dry erase board in permanent marker.  Thank you Nurse "A".  You saved my life.