Guardians of Care
Although their care may seem heaven-sent, nurses' healing work is firmly rooted in compassion, dedication and a commitment to patients' needs

By Dee Imai, RN
Second Place Essay Winner 2002

"Touched by an Angel" is a TV show that tugs my emotional strings each time I watch it. We all experience challenges in our lives and are in need of an "angel." A patient's mother once told me that nurses are angels sent from heaven.

Are we angels?

"One, two, three alcohol swabs," "one, two, three Betadine swabs" are the words I recall saying as I taught central line care to the parents of a newly diagnosed leukemia patient. As the primary nurse for this patient, I went through many teaching and listening sessions.

Two years after the diagnosis, the patient relapsed and underwent a bone marrow transplant. I remember "visiting" and reading a story to this 5-year-old child in BMT during my lunch break, and she shared that the only reason she was wearing a diaper was because the medicine made her "pee" a lot: "I'm really potty trained." A child's dignity.

Unfortunately, the patient relapsed again immediately after the transplant. Her impending death was overwhelming for her parents as they listened intently to the doctor during the DNR conference. After the conference, they turned to me and asked, "Can you explain it all again?" and "What would you do?"

What I learned that day is that I cannot make these difficult decisions for the patients and their families, but I can be the instrument to help them find the missing pieces to the puzzle.

When I arrived to work the day the patient died, I found her mother sitting and holding her. Her father was donating platelets. To an experienced nurse, it was apparent that the child was taking her last few breaths, but not to this mother who had never been at the bedside of a dying person. I called the blood bank and asked them to have the father return to the room immediately. A few minutes later, the child took her last breath and went to rest eternally.

That was 12 years ago. To this day, the parents send cards to say, "Thank you. You were there when she was diagnosed. You were there to teach us, support us and advocate for us. You were there when she died … and if it weren't for you, her father would not have been there to hold her as she took her last breath."

An angel sent from heaven? No, I'm not an angel. I am a nurse.

I recognized the mother right away. The "child," no longer a child, is a UCLA student.

His mother recalls the torturous memories of the days when he was being treated for leukemia at age 6. As she shares his accomplishments, she states, "I will never forget the wonderful care he received. I remember all the nurses and what the nurses did to help us."

Angels sent from heaven? No, we're not angels. We're nurses.

A 19-year-old man who has been off therapy for several years comes for his annual check-up. When asked what he is doing now, he tells me that he's in school to become a nurse. He shares with me that he wants to do something important with his life.

My parents take pride in sharing, with anyone who cares to listen, that I am a nurse.

Until four years ago, I was a child in my father's eyes. At that time, he underwent heart surgery and had a long and difficult recovery. He told my mother and me that he wanted to die.

His cardiologist told us he would live. I used all that I learned as a nurse and guided him along the path of recovery. I convinced him that he needed hydration and nutrition. He agreed to an NG tube, and I taught my mother to "feed" him with it.

Four years later, at age 92, he is riding his stationary bike, three miles a day, every day. Now I am no longer a child, but his grown daughter and resource-and a nurse. Whenever he is struck with an ailment, the question he asks my mother is, "Did you call her and ask her what I need to do?"

A mother who is a nurse always knows how to heal an "ouchie." My children choose to have their mommy put a Band-Aid on-because mommy is a nurse. They looked at the calendar and noticed that National Nurses Week was approaching and asked me to come to their school to talk to their classmates about nursing. Pride in what mommy does: nursing.

When I was 11 years old, I was hospitalized for two weeks in an American military hospital in Japan. As a non-English-speaking child, I was challenged with trying to understand all the instructions. When I woke up from anesthesia after an inner ear surgery, I felt the need to empty my bladder. I didn't want to bother anyone, but how do I get out of this bed? I climbed over the side rail and pushed the IV pole while holding onto the wall. I felt a little dizzy, but I knew I could do it myself.

When the nurse found me in the bathroom, she did not scold me, but instead, using hand and body motions, explained why it was so dangerous for me to get up on my own.

During my two-week hospitalization, I watched "angels"-no, nurses-in action. I watched a nurse soothe a crying child. I watched a nurse gently bathe a child in a spika cast. I watched a nurse teach a mother how to take care of her ill child.

Compassion has no language barrier. I knew then that I wanted to be just like them.

The armor of courage and strength with which the young patients and their families fight their adversity inspire me. The dedication and compassion of my nurse colleagues inspire me.

If I had it to do all over again, would I still be a nurse today?

Without any hesitation, the answer is "yes."