It was a regular Tuesday morning. I was at my kitchen island making sandwiches for my children, and a message came through my phone from H’s brother. It read, “Hey, H had a severe asthma attack and went into cardiac arrest. We’re at Lowell General.” I was frozen; this could not be real. I reached Heather’s brother, who confirmed it was accurate. I went straight to the hospital, receiving texts along the way from my friend who got there first that read, “It’s really bad. She has swelling on her brain.” Everything from that point on got very real, and the heartache we were about to face was indescribable.

The following 48 hours would be something that none of us could have imagined we would ever endure in our lifetime. Our worst nightmare. We have a large, close-knit group of friends of 35+ years who all started to arrive at the hospital. When I entered H’s room, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. How could this happen to a seemingly healthy 48-year-old who was just at my house yesterday?

That is when we were first introduced to Erin, the RN, and the NP. From the moment we met them, it felt like they became our pillars of strength. A critical piece that none of us realized we so desperately needed as we held each other up, crying and still in disbelief. Erin was orienting a student and introduced herself to all of us. Her eye contact made us feel valued, her compassion made us feel secure, and her professionalism made us feel confident she was going to do everything in her power to help save our dear friend. Erin provided 1:1 care to H for the next 12 hours in addition to being “charge nurse” for the whole unit.

Even with all her competing demands, Erin was so attentive to H’s needs in her critical state. She consistently explained everything she was doing, how long it would take, and made sure to let us know the minute we could return to her bedside. There is no doubt she felt the pain and fear in our hearts. She showed incredible patience with the large number of us as we asked questions and looked for answers she knew she couldn’t give us. As a nurse myself, this was the piece that I will never forget. It was the first time I had had a front-row seat to critical care nursing- now on the opposite side as a distraught friend of a critically ill patient. From a medical standpoint, I knew what Erin and the team knew. Within the first 30 minutes of when I arrived at the hospital, I knew my friend was gone. I could not un-hear “early brain swelling is a very poor prognostic sign.” I also knew she was down for 45 minutes and was “self-cooling.” I knew she would never leave that hospital room. Erin knew this, too, from the minute she finished report that day. However, H’s parents and other friends/family in that room never got that impression from Erin. I will never forget how Erin did not allow this to ever get in the way. She answered every question we all had with patience, professionalism, and even a semblance of hope, which we all needed in our shocked state.

Erin has remarkable emotional intelligence. She was constantly feeding off our cues- she could “read the room.” She recognized how she could share factual updates with H's friends, especially those in healthcare, while considering the emotions of H’s parents and their inability to accept the inevitable. I could tell she had done this countless times as a critical care nurse, and based on her confidence, I am sure that was true. She had it all covered like a tradesman who had mastered their craft. Lucky for us, her experience in these situations only made her more sensitive to us as concerned family and friends. She never once made us feel as if a question or a concern was not necessary. She never rushed us or made us feel like our questions were irrelevant, given the grim outcome she knew would soon be H’s fate.

She was PRESENT- consistently, all day long. The whole team was so present, and the communication was excellent. The NP came and checked in intermittently to give us updates and answer all our questions. The NP's gift was her ability to simplify complex medical information for us to understand the seriousness of H’s arrest and how her lack of oxygen left her with significant brain damage. She did this throughout the day into the evening, to a room full of people, making sure to answer all questions while showing empathy and genuine concern. We all knew with 100% confidence that everything that could be done for H was being done. Having worked in a renowned tertiary medical center for 25+ years, I will admit that my first thought was how fast I could get her transferred to Boston. I quickly knew her critical state would not allow this, but what was even more reassuring was that I knew early on Lowell General had all their bases covered. To say I was impressed is an understatement. The whole team was beyond accommodating, even in the first 24 hours of H’s critical state and need for constant care. The setup of the ICU was unique, with the waiting rooms for families right outside the patient rooms. I had never seen this before, but it felt so much more inviting and made us feel that our needs were just as valued as H’s. This was essential in our time of despair and something we will never forget.

Erin balanced all her competing demands professionally like a pro. The attention she gave to all of us was beyond impressive, seeing as H’s needs were the priority. This is something not all nurses master; catering to the emotional needs of patients and family members while delivering high-quality care at such a high level, at such a demanding pace. I will never forget Erin’s gift or that of H’s care team. She was our pillar of strength and H’s most important angel in her time of despair. Erin exemplified critical care nursing at its finest. A true gift that she may not even know she has mastered. A more than fitting reason to nominate Erin for the DAISY Award that she is so incredibly deserving of.

In the words of Maya Angelou... “They may forget your name, but they will never forget how you made them feel.” However, we will never forget your name, Erin.