June 2026 Honoree
Andrew Divo, RN, BSN
I want to start by telling you who I am, so you understand the weight of what I'm about to say. I am a patient who has survived a heart attack and a stroke. I have been admitted to hospitals more times than I can count, and I have walked out AMA every single time. Not once, not twice, every single time. I left feeling invisible, forgotten, and more afraid inside those walls than I ever felt outside of them.
This year, I had a TIA and was brought to the 6th floor at McLaren. A nurse named Drew Divo changed everything. I came in guarded. I came in ready to leave. I came in with years of trauma and distrust packed behind me like luggage. Drew somehow knew all of that without me ever saying a word. He was kind in a way that didn't feel rehearsed. He was patient in a way that didn't feel performative. He explained everything, answered every question, never made me feel like a burden, and I know I can be a lot. He made me feel safe. Not just comfortable. Safe. That is not a word I have ever used to describe a hospital stay. Until now.
What makes Drew’s care even more extraordinary is what was happening around us. The stroke team was called to the ER all day long. The floor was busy. The pressure on that unit was visible to anyone paying attention. And yet I would never have known Drew had a single other patient. He made me feel like I was his only priority. Like I mattered. Like maybe I even owned the wing. I laughed more during that hospital stay than I had during any other, and I stayed. Let that sink in. A patient who has never once stayed, stayed. Because of Drew.
My family felt the difference too. They watched him care for me, and they exhaled for the first time. That peace he gave them is something no medication could provide. And because I stayed, because I trusted him, because he gave me every reason to believe I was in good hands, I got better. Drew didn't just give me good nursing care. He reminded me that there is magic in this profession- real, healing, life-changing magic and he carries it with him every single shift. Please celebrate him loudly.
This year, I had a TIA and was brought to the 6th floor at McLaren. A nurse named Drew Divo changed everything. I came in guarded. I came in ready to leave. I came in with years of trauma and distrust packed behind me like luggage. Drew somehow knew all of that without me ever saying a word. He was kind in a way that didn't feel rehearsed. He was patient in a way that didn't feel performative. He explained everything, answered every question, never made me feel like a burden, and I know I can be a lot. He made me feel safe. Not just comfortable. Safe. That is not a word I have ever used to describe a hospital stay. Until now.
What makes Drew’s care even more extraordinary is what was happening around us. The stroke team was called to the ER all day long. The floor was busy. The pressure on that unit was visible to anyone paying attention. And yet I would never have known Drew had a single other patient. He made me feel like I was his only priority. Like I mattered. Like maybe I even owned the wing. I laughed more during that hospital stay than I had during any other, and I stayed. Let that sink in. A patient who has never once stayed, stayed. Because of Drew.
My family felt the difference too. They watched him care for me, and they exhaled for the first time. That peace he gave them is something no medication could provide. And because I stayed, because I trusted him, because he gave me every reason to believe I was in good hands, I got better. Drew didn't just give me good nursing care. He reminded me that there is magic in this profession- real, healing, life-changing magic and he carries it with him every single shift. Please celebrate him loudly.
Thank you, Andrew, for your exceptional compassion, advocacy, and dedication to your patients. You truly make a difference.
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