I am an ER nurse at Trinity Health Oakland, and I was working when I received a call from my mother-in-law that my father-in-law was en route to the hospital in an ambulance. When he arrived, it was clear that he was very ill and was taken to CT. In CT, he became completely unresponsive, and it was discovered that he suffered a catastrophic brain hemorrhage. At this time, he was brought down to the resuscitation room, where I work, and my partner Jen was working. While my mother-in-law and I were meeting with all the doctors in the family waiting room, Jen was busy caring for my father-in-law in the trauma room; hanging meds, taking blood, inserting tubes and drains, all things we do for a critical patient.

What I will never forget, and hold in my heart, was when we came back from meeting with the doctors and were coming to see him, I noticed the room was darkened and the curtain was pulled. At first, I couldn't see Jen, but when I pulled the curtain to go see and sit with my father-in-law, Jen was there, sitting right at his bedside with the rail down and his hand out beside her while she charted. She was with him. She was with him, so he wasn't alone while we were receiving the devastating news about his diagnosis and prognosis. And as a fellow trauma nurse, I know more than others all the things we nurses do to keep someone critical alive and stabilized, but what meant the most to me was that she was sitting at his bedside, so he didn't feel alone. He was cleaned up, his face washed, his hair brushed back, and changed into a hospital gown. He looked so comfortable, as if he were sleeping. It’s hard to be 2 people at once, and it was nice to know I could take a step back and just be the daughter-in-law, knowing that my nurses had my back, and Jen really did.

Everyone in my ER and hospital family went above and beyond for me that day, and I will never forget it, but when I think back to that day, what I remember most is pulling back that curtain to see Jen sitting with my father-in-law so he wasn't alone, and I am so thankful for that. My mother-in-law remembers all the doctors, providers, and nurses, but I remember Jen. He ended up passing away comfortably and peacefully a few hours later on the Oncology floor. You can teach nurses many things, but you can't teach compassion. And it’s those little things that mean the most.