July 2020
Bennet
Parentela
,
RN
Emergency Department
Olympia Medical Center
Los Angeles
,
CA
United States
I was admitted to the ER this morning at approximately 6 AM. I had a scary experience Monday, but especially Tuesday morning. And I am writing to compliment and commend the Charge Nurse on duty named Ralph.
I have a history of alcohol-induced pancreatitis and bleeding duodenal ulcers. I have bled out 9 times with 9 blood transfusions. A few times, I have bled to the point of passing out, after my vision turns blurry, and then everything went white in addition to an extreme heaviness in my legs. And I had black stools when I called 911 this morning, so I was scared.
When I got here, I had those symptoms, and they were worsening. I began to get scared watching my blood pressure drop. I was convinced that I was dying and started saying "I don't want to die," and crying and it was painful to even breathe.
That's when Charge Nurse Ralph stepped in. He did something that I found to be an extraordinary act of kindness, something that I can only remember one other nurse doing in the past 15 years since my stupid surgery that was the beginning of my pain and self-inflicted pain - abusing pain killers and alcohol. Sorry to talk so much about myself, but I want to express what Ralph just being kind and helping me meant at that moment. It may seem to him like he was just doing his job, but for me, his words and actions were soothing, reassuring, and quite possibly kept me from going totally insane.
Ralph kept saying to me over and over, "You're not going to die; you're not going to die." He kept saying, "We're going to take care of you." But I still kept crying. He finally did something totally unexpected, and totally wonderful. He told me "Look at me . . . Look at my eyes." And he held my hand. He said, "My name is Ralph. And you are not going to die. You're going to see many summers and many Christmases . . . many more birthdays. You're not going to die, okay?"
And he said with such real compassion, far from how I am usually treated. It's usually "Oh she's only here for pain meds." "Stop making all that noise, it can't hurt that bad." I felt human when he spoke to me. I didn't feel like, "oh the drunk or here comes the drug-seeking patient faking it." I just want you to know how comforting that was.
And then . . . he came back when I was yelling in pain later that afternoon. The first thing he said was, "What's my name?" Ralph. That definitely showed he had a true concern. And he said "What did I tell you?" I wasn't going to die. And he came and brought me what I asked for. Got me a room upstairs even escorted me up, all the time asking was I okay.
Ralph is exceptional. He's someone I'll never forget. I just wish I could see his entire face without the mask. And please make sure Ralph has plenty of PPE. Thank you, Ralph. Thank you.
I have a history of alcohol-induced pancreatitis and bleeding duodenal ulcers. I have bled out 9 times with 9 blood transfusions. A few times, I have bled to the point of passing out, after my vision turns blurry, and then everything went white in addition to an extreme heaviness in my legs. And I had black stools when I called 911 this morning, so I was scared.
When I got here, I had those symptoms, and they were worsening. I began to get scared watching my blood pressure drop. I was convinced that I was dying and started saying "I don't want to die," and crying and it was painful to even breathe.
That's when Charge Nurse Ralph stepped in. He did something that I found to be an extraordinary act of kindness, something that I can only remember one other nurse doing in the past 15 years since my stupid surgery that was the beginning of my pain and self-inflicted pain - abusing pain killers and alcohol. Sorry to talk so much about myself, but I want to express what Ralph just being kind and helping me meant at that moment. It may seem to him like he was just doing his job, but for me, his words and actions were soothing, reassuring, and quite possibly kept me from going totally insane.
Ralph kept saying to me over and over, "You're not going to die; you're not going to die." He kept saying, "We're going to take care of you." But I still kept crying. He finally did something totally unexpected, and totally wonderful. He told me "Look at me . . . Look at my eyes." And he held my hand. He said, "My name is Ralph. And you are not going to die. You're going to see many summers and many Christmases . . . many more birthdays. You're not going to die, okay?"
And he said with such real compassion, far from how I am usually treated. It's usually "Oh she's only here for pain meds." "Stop making all that noise, it can't hurt that bad." I felt human when he spoke to me. I didn't feel like, "oh the drunk or here comes the drug-seeking patient faking it." I just want you to know how comforting that was.
And then . . . he came back when I was yelling in pain later that afternoon. The first thing he said was, "What's my name?" Ralph. That definitely showed he had a true concern. And he said "What did I tell you?" I wasn't going to die. And he came and brought me what I asked for. Got me a room upstairs even escorted me up, all the time asking was I okay.
Ralph is exceptional. He's someone I'll never forget. I just wish I could see his entire face without the mask. And please make sure Ralph has plenty of PPE. Thank you, Ralph. Thank you.