I sat behind a glass door with my husband, my dad’s sister, and my brother (who was on FaceTime) while watching a young nurse by the name of Danny be our hands in my Daddy’s CCU Air Tight Covid room at Baptist. Mom had already been discharged and was headed to a covid rehab room elsewhere. Thankfully, she was able to go into his room and talk with him the day before. Daddy had bilateral covid pneumonia, just like I had. He was on the Bipap. It is one of the machines I was on at more than one point in time. The Bipap is one of the most awful machines. It PUSHES air into your lungs. You have to time your breathing with the machine or it will try to PUSH the air in while you are trying to exhale. If you do it out of time, it’s very painful. Imagine filling a balloon to capacity and then filling it with that same volume again. It’s like your lungs are going to explode. You are constantly aware of the pain and become anxious. You are constantly counting and retiming your breaths hoping it won’t happen again. Then, you cough and have to try to time your breathing all over again all while being in pain. I knew the pain Daddy was in. I could physically feel it. He would cough and I would hurt for him. I’d find myself counting and trying to retime the breathing. Daddy was making hand gestures to his head and pointing to me as to say I know what you went through, I know you're smart and making a fist to say you're tough. Then touching his chest and pointing to me as if to say I love you. I so desperately wanted to hold my Daddy’s hand and stroke his head to give him some relief, peace, comfort, and/or distraction from his pain and struggle that I know too well. See, when I was in the hospital and finally tested negative and was out of quarantine, my 87-year-old Daddy would drive to the hospital to sit with me to keep me company, rub my legs and feet, help me exercise in bed, etc…He did whatever he could to help comfort me. He was relentless. He was tough. Sometimes we just held hands. The warmth of his hands gave me so much peace just knowing at 87-year-old, my Daddy was still with me and loved me as much as the 1st time he held me. But this was different, my Daddy was still in quarantine and I couldn’t be in his room, I couldn’t hold his hand and rub him. I couldn’t give him that comfort and peace that he gave me. My heart was breaking and still is.

I felt jealous of Nurse Danny. As long as Daddy’s hands were warm, there was life. I needed to feel that life. I felt empathy for Danny because he has to play too many roles. He should just be able to be a nurse, but he had to be a nurse, daughter, son, sister, and wife. I felt beyond grateful for Danny because he was our hands. Danny used his left hand to hold my Dad’s left hand. He stroked my Daddy’s chubby short fingers. Danny used his right hand and stroked my Daddy’s head. Danny leaned in close to try to hear my Daddy’s last words. Danny spoke gently and with kindness. Occasionally he had to pause to give medicine or check vitals, but Danny was relentless, and he would go right back to comforting my Daddy without even thinking. He gave Daddy medicine to make him comfortable. I watched as Danny removed the Bipap for the final time per Daddy’s request. I felt sadness for Danny as he was the last person to feel the warmth of my Daddy’s hand, and the first person to feel the coldness of his hand after Daddy took his last breath. I am forever thankful for CCU Covid Nurse Danny.

Please pray for all the Dannys in the world. I know that their jobs are beyond taxing physically, mentally, and spiritually.