My husband was admitted to the ER with a pulmonary embolism. The ER doctor and pulmonologist both did a very caring way of telling me how serious this was and how I could have already lost him that morning when the "severe" clot passed through his heart. After an EKG, X-ray, CT, ultrasound, and echo, they told me that he was still at risk, and due to his cerebral amyloid angiopathy combined with his recent surgery for glioblastoma, they could not use their usual arsenal of clot-busting drugs. They would give him heparin, as the least harmful, because his risk of a brain bleed was high. They gave me the choice of treating for the devil we knew, that his heart was under severe stress vs. the devil we suspected would emerge, the brain bleed that would be life-changing or life-ending, an impossibly agonizing, even if clear, decision.
It was at this moment that Darinka, our ER nurse who had been quietly taking care of him but who was also keeping close tabs on me, turned to me as the doctors left the room and said, "I'd like to take care of you. Can I get you a cup of tea?" Not taking my eyes off my husband, I vaguely nodded. "What kind of tea would you like?" she asked. "Anything," I replied, waving her off. "Come with me and pick it out," she persisted, and only then did I look up and see the caring in her eyes and realize that I am going into shock and she wants to get me out of the room. Slowly, with utmost patience, she takes me by the arm and walks me to the nurses' station. She waits as I change my mind and choose coffee. She is watching me, waiting for the flood of adrenaline and cortisol to pass through my system and then she quietly walks me into the hall and turns to look me straight in the eye. "I know you are very worried and scared to death, and you have every right to be, but you did it. You did what you needed to do. You got him here to us. We are professional worriers. We plan ahead for every contingency, and we watch carefully. We are trained to worry, and we are good at our jobs. So, give your worry to us. Let go of it. Right now, you have another job to do, just one job. Go back into that room, and lift your man's spirits. Take away his worry and stress. His heart needs to be as calm as it can be right now. Can you do that?" Looking at her right in the eye, I lift myself out of my fear and manage to get out, "I can." "Then go and do it, and we will do our job. We've got him." And they did. My husband made it through the next critical hours and days, and so did I.
I am a 12-year, stage 4 lung cancer patient, my second primary cancer. My husband has survived renal cancer, two ankle surgeries and is now battling glioblastoma. We know hospitals and love them. We love our doctors, and we have known many extraordinary and kind nurses for whom we are very grateful. But in that moment, Darinka did something I have never experienced before in a nurse. She met me, human to human, in a way I will never forget. For her keen awareness of everyone in the room, for her humane way of treating us, for her professional support and her very wise and timely counsel, she is a true DAISY Nurse.