August 2026 Honoree
Bambi Campbell-Henry, RN
I found myself in the emergency room for an exacerbated asthma attack; I was quickly moved over to a bed. Miss Henry was insistent that I get in a bed, be taken care of, and monitored more closely.
What struck me about her was that she told me I mattered. I kept saying, it doesn't matter, she said, “You matter.” Her eye contact, her intent, her desire to help me, to comfort me- she sensed that I was a little frightened and wasn't able to calm down. I just think Brooklyn Hospital should clone her.
I got a prescription; the doctor ordered some phosphorus for me. I think I'm saying the right thing, and she knew that it was going to burn. There were about 11 or 12 other patients. Miss Henry stood there; she gave me the shot, and she never left. I was like, “Well, you can go take care of them," she said, " Oh, let's wait a minute,” knowing that this was going to burn. She was standing there, ready to relieve the burning with another liquid.
After she got me back together, she rubbed my hand, and she said, “I'll be back,” and she came back. I peeped through the curtain, and she was spinning around like a ballerina, around this person, around that person, looking at the monitor and making sure this person got their meds. Somebody asked for a tea bag; she wrote it down and ran to get it. I mean, just exuberantly, lovingly, caringly doing what I believe she loves to do. I think it has less to do with economics and more to do with care.
I don't say that lightly. I've had some not-so-happy experiences at this hospital. As a matter of fact, I was a patient here for 30 years and left and went to Oak Street Health. Now, because of Miss Henry, I'm coming back because my faith is renewed that there are caring people.
She's a gem. She's an asset. She's personable, diligent, and caring. I just don't have the words to explain how I watched her without a change of expression, of warmth and care for myself and several other patients. She attended to each and every one of us as if we were her family members; at least I felt like, you know, “I was Auntie Angel”.
I just want someone to know that this person cared for me deeply, saw me, and felt for me and my situation.
What struck me about her was that she told me I mattered. I kept saying, it doesn't matter, she said, “You matter.” Her eye contact, her intent, her desire to help me, to comfort me- she sensed that I was a little frightened and wasn't able to calm down. I just think Brooklyn Hospital should clone her.
I got a prescription; the doctor ordered some phosphorus for me. I think I'm saying the right thing, and she knew that it was going to burn. There were about 11 or 12 other patients. Miss Henry stood there; she gave me the shot, and she never left. I was like, “Well, you can go take care of them," she said, " Oh, let's wait a minute,” knowing that this was going to burn. She was standing there, ready to relieve the burning with another liquid.
After she got me back together, she rubbed my hand, and she said, “I'll be back,” and she came back. I peeped through the curtain, and she was spinning around like a ballerina, around this person, around that person, looking at the monitor and making sure this person got their meds. Somebody asked for a tea bag; she wrote it down and ran to get it. I mean, just exuberantly, lovingly, caringly doing what I believe she loves to do. I think it has less to do with economics and more to do with care.
I don't say that lightly. I've had some not-so-happy experiences at this hospital. As a matter of fact, I was a patient here for 30 years and left and went to Oak Street Health. Now, because of Miss Henry, I'm coming back because my faith is renewed that there are caring people.
She's a gem. She's an asset. She's personable, diligent, and caring. I just don't have the words to explain how I watched her without a change of expression, of warmth and care for myself and several other patients. She attended to each and every one of us as if we were her family members; at least I felt like, you know, “I was Auntie Angel”.
I just want someone to know that this person cared for me deeply, saw me, and felt for me and my situation.
Thank you, Bambi, for your exceptional compassion, advocacy, and dedication to your patients. You truly make a difference.
View More Honorees