Cara Pompei shares the following story about one of her patients and this illustrates DAISY nurse excellence.

I was taking care of an 85 years old gentleman who was admitted from home with a diagnosis of weakness and dehydration. He had a long medical history including metastatic lung cancer to his throat and liver. He recently completed both chemotherapy and radiation to his throat. He was very weak, thin and pale. He was slow to respond, and only spoke one or two words at a time, but he was alert and oriented. His daughter was at his bedside most of the day.

The oncologist told the daughter, there was nothing more they could do regarding the metastasis of her father's cancer, and we should make him as comfortable as possible.

She appeared quiet and concerned while she gently stroked her fathers' hand as I entered the room. "What was I going to do to comfort this family", kept running through my head. Going back to nursing basics I thought about time management, prioritization, and patient needs, and knew this patient and family needed me.

After the doctors left, I asked Mr. D if he had any pain. He nodded his head no. I asked if he was comfortable and he pointed to his back. I called the aide and together we repositioned him after I did a physical assessment and gently rubbed his back with lotion and powder. He gave me a smile and whispered thank you to me. I asked his daughter if she was staying for a while, and she responded she would be there all day. I told her I needed to assess my other patients, check on the unit, and that I would be back in 15 minutes to administer her father's tube feeding. I looked at my watch and left the room. After handling a few phone calls, silencing a few alarms, and asking a co-worker if she could administer medications to my patients, I returned to the room. I asked the daughter if she had any questions regarding who all the doctors were, and topics they discussed with her. I systematically explained the order and area of practice each of the doctors whom were caring for her father. I re-explained the plan of care that they ordered and told her we will do everything to make him as comfortable as possible. While preparing to pour the tube feeding into Mr. D's peg tube, she told me, her dad really loved spaghetti and Italian gravy. I told them both I was Italian and made my own "sauce, not gravy", and we all chuckled at the ongoing debate among Italians regarding which is the correct name for our trademark delicacy. I described to them, how I make my sauce, starting with fresh garlic and good olive oil, then adding the family secret ingredient (a teaspoon of sugar) while slowing cooking the sauce. They seemed to enjoy my little tale. I asked Mr. D if he was hungry, and he whispered, "Not really". I asked him where he was born, and what did for a living when he was working. He told me he was born in Sicily and that he was a barber. I smiled, took his hand in mine, and said to him that my grandfather was from there, and he too was a barber. As I was administering his feeding into his tube, I said jokingly, "Here comes your spaghetti and meatballs". They both chuckled at the same time. Then I received a call from the front desk, and had to leave the room.

When I returned to Mr. D's room and found his daughter sitting quietly next to him in a chair. I noticed that the room was dark with limited sunlight due to the position of the small window. I knew that a room on the corner of the unit was open and that it had big windows and a beautiful, huge, flowering tree growing just outside it and within sight. I asked the patient and his daughter if they thought he would like to be able to look out a window at a tree. They both smiled and said yes, and I went looking for help to make the move. Despite numerous interruptions and delays, I got my patient moved into the sunlit room. I will never forget the smile on his face.

I was off the next two days and came back to work to find out that Mr. D expired the evening I moved his room. I was again in charge of the unit, and it was one of those mornings where everything was going wrong. In all the chaos, the secretary gets my attention at the nurses' station and tells me a family member of a patient was on the phone and wanted to talk to me. I take the phone and say hello, and the voice says, "Hi, this is the daughter of Mr. D". I was very surprised and had to stop and think for a minute. The memory of the both of them came rushing back to me, and I responded by expressing my sympathy on his passing.

What she said to me has stayed with me, she said that she wanted to thank me for taking such good care of her father. With tears in her voice, she followed that with, "you treated him as if he was your own father, and for that, I will always be grateful". I still tear up at the thought of those words, and truly believe that receiving a compliment such as this is the best thank you a nurse could get.