Christina Purviance, Registered Nurse

For Christina Purviance, great moments are often invisible

Ordinary interactions can change lives. The 2026 DAISY Award recipient reflects on the lessons she learned from a dying mother’s love for her son, caring for her grandfather as a child, and unexpectedly finding herself on the receiving end of care.

It’s not always emergencies and miracles that shape a nurse. Sometimes, it’s quiet conversations at the bedside.
For years, patients struggling with addiction were among the most difficult for Christina Purviance to connect with. Like many emergency department nurses, she often met them on their hardest days, caught in cycles that felt impossible to break.
Then she cared for the dying mother of a man living with addiction. As she listened to the woman talk about her son, Christina began to see him differently. To his mother, he was simply her little boy — she had raised, loved, and never stopped believing in him. The conversation ended. The mother passed away. But Christina never forgot: Defining moments don’t necessarily have an audience.
Months later, Christina watched him begin the long journey to sobriety. Today, when she runs into him around Wrangell, she sees not who he was, but who he has become. In a community of 2,000, people don’t disappear after they’re discharged. She gets the rare privilege of witnessing them heal and rebuild their lives.
At the start of her career, Christina hoped she might one day receive a DAISY Award. She admired colleagues who were recognized for going above and beyond, wondering if she would ever earn that same distinction.

The longer she practiced, the more it became clear that the things that matter most rarely “ask” to be recognized. They simply compel her to be present and to be human, unfolding in the quiet, unseen spaces between diagnoses and discharge. “They make a difference whether anyone ever says thank you or not,” Christina said.

Long before she became a nurse, Christina was already caring for others. One of her earliest memories is helping her grandfather get dressed. Even at four years old, she remembers worrying that if she wasn’t there, he might fall. That instinct to protect and comfort others has stayed with her ever since.
While working in emergency and critical care, Christina learned that technical skill is essential, but compassion is what stays with patients most. One piece of advice from an instructor became the foundation of her practice: “Never forget to look into your patient’s eyes.” From that day forward, she tried to see in every patient what she had always seen in her grandfather: a person worthy of patience, kindness, and dignity.

Along the way, Christina came to trust both her clinical judgment and her instincts. She believes advocacy is one of the most important parts of nursing, whether that means staying at a patient’s bedside when something doesn’t feel right or speaking up when they need a higher level of care.

When Christina joined SEARHC, she was met with support that extended far beyond the walls of the hospital. After a devastating landslide affected her family, coworkers rallied around her, lightening the load through one of the hardest chapters of her life. It showed her that healing is rarely a one-way exchange. Even those who care for others sometimes need to be cared for.

At SEARHC, growth came naturally. Mentors invested in her, and colleagues celebrated her successes. “They saw my potential, and they let me fly,” she said.

Those who nominated Christina describe a nurse who stayed a little longer, listened closely, calmed anxious family members, made everyone in the room feel seen, and brought light to a very dark time. Even through times of uncertainty and heartbreak, one nominator called her “the most fun nurse,” adding, “She makes everyone feel good.”
The 2026 DAISY Award recognition means a great deal to her; not because it celebrated one remarkable act, but because it honored years of showing up for people when no one else was watching. It turns out the most ordinary acts of kindness aren’t as invisible as they may seem.
For a nurse who believes the smallest things matter most, there may have been no greater honor than knowing those are what someone else remembered, too.