My dad was admitted to the oncology floor without an official cancer diagnosis. Lesions had been found on his liver on a CT scan done in the ER a week prior, and though we understood it appeared to be a metastatic cancer of some sort, no biopsies or further studies had yet been done. We had just met his oncologist for the first time a couple of hours prior to our admission when we met Judi, our admitting nurse.
I am a nurse, myself. I work full time in an ICU and have really high standards for the care I deliver; meaning I also have really high standards for anyone that will be taking care of a loved one of mine. When I found out my dad was going to be admitted to the hospital, I was terrified. I didn't know these nurses or doctors, and we didn't even know what was wrong with my dad. As soon as we met Judi, though, I knew I trusted her. The way she treated our situation was perfect. She somehow delivered care that was the ideal balance of urgency, sympathy, and light-heartedness. She knew there was a lot that needed to get done quickly, and took it all very seriously, yet was able to joke around with us at times and make the situation not seem as grim as it most obviously was.
Our next couple of days in the hospital held all sorts of things: testing, waiting for results, receiving an actual cancer diagnosis, port placement, dialysis catheter placement, dialysis treatments, chemo treatments, etc. We got into somewhat of a routine, and the hospital became our new home. It was sort of touch and go with my dad's status. Some days, he would look pretty good. He would have energy, be talkative, and seem fairly close to himself. Other days, he'd be super fatigued and had a hard time eating, talking with visitors, etc. without being completely worn down. Despite tolerating chemo and dialysis, and some of his labs showing a positive response to treatment, other labs, symptoms, etc. showed that cancer and its many secondary effects were taking over more and more of his body quickly.
One morning things didn't look good. As I stated before, I am an ICU nurse. I see a lot of really sick people, and when I see certain things, I know they don't have much time left. My dad wasn't doing well, and a lot was happening quickly. Judi was our nurse that morning. After some conversations with my family, the oncologist, the nurses, and my dad, we decided to make him a DNR and began treating him with comfort measures only. Within a minute of my dad agreeing to this new plan, he lost consciousness. He was still "alive," though was no longer really "there."
During this part of the process, Judi was so respectful of not only my dad and our family but also of me being a nurse. She knew that I understood what was happening, and instead of moving us out of the way and getting her things done, she instead asked me, "What do you need?" I wanted to care for my dad as he was dying, and she allowed this to happen. She'd frequently check to make sure we were doing okay but allowed me to be the one caring for him. A friend later told me as she and Judi were watching me care for my dad from the hallway; Judi told her she knew it was important for me to be able to be the one caring for him. I am forever grateful for this.
So, in conclusion, Judi cared for us at the beginning of our time in the hospital, at the end of it all, and a couple of times in between. Her presence brought me peace. I had never heard of my dad's diagnosis until we were told about it. Though, I just recently had a patient that was given the same diagnosis. As I was caring for my patient's quickly failing body, I had memories of Judi cross my mind.
There are a lot of nurses that work so hard and should receive DAISY awards, but many of their stories go unwritten. I wanted to be able to publicly thank Judi for the impact of her care. Thank you.