My grandmother was diagnosed with Adenocarcinoma five weeks ago, and she has been in and out of the hospital. We, as a family we very much concerned for her diminishing health. We were preparing for her end of life. While preparing for that, we wanted her at home, and unfortunately, our wishes didn’t work out that way. We knew that she would be staying in the hospital and potentially not going to make it through the night. She made it through the rough night with my mother and me holding her hands the whole night. After twelve hours of dealing with staff, for lack of a better term, non-supportive and non-caring, seven am rolled around, and a breath of fresh air walked into the room. 
    
Her name was Melissa; from the get-go, she was compassionate, supportive, and spoke in a tone that you instantly noticed that she would be there for me, my family, and my grandmother. That morning, we discussed with my grandmother explaining what was going on and how the nurses would make her comfortable every hour with the Morphine and every four hours with Ativan. My grandmother understood and nodded yes; she was ready for the next step in her journey. As she was about to start pushing the medicine, Melissa asked us if we had any questions and was extremely gentle with her medication dosing. She was protective of my grandmother as if my grandmother was her own. This protection continued to grow throughout the day; Melissa was instructed to come into her room every hour to give more Morphine. Every 59 minutes of the hour, she knocked on the door to give her more medicine. She was not wasting any time; she made my family her family. 
    
As the tension in the room diminished, we as a family knew what would happen and were growing to accept it. We felt further at peace that we had a nurse who was not there for a paycheck but TRULY loved what she did and her impact on patients. In that short eight hours, we got to know Melissa; she wasn’t the nurse who cared for my grandmother; she became family. Melissa was right there next to us, feeling our pain. She encouraged us to hold my grandmother’s hands, which we never let go of, and continued to encourage us to talk with her like we were. 
    
At 4 PM, after the last Morphine dosage, we decided that my grandmother was suffering, and the O2 was the only thing that was keeping her alive. We made a family decision to remove her Oxygen and let her go peacefully. As we removed the Oxygen from my grandmother, Melissa stepped out of the room to give us time as she passed on. Melissa came back into the room to check her monitor and update us on her heart rate and that she didn’t pass on yet. At that time, Melissa was standing to my right and as emotional as I was, I thought that she was my niece and turned and hugged her; she didn’t back away or give a weird vibe. She put her arms around me and let me emotionally break down. At one point, I think Melissa was also upset. Who couldn’t be there when people were crying around her? 
    
Once my grandmother passed away, Melissa and her peer came into the room and continued to discuss the next steps compassionately. They asked us if we wanted them to clean her up and then give us some time with her. That was the most amazing thing. We walked back into the room after they did that and did spend some time with her. On our way out of the room, Melissa stood in the hallway hugged every one of us as we walked out of the room. 

Melissa needs to be recognized for her compassion, caring, and comforting demeanor. During the most challenging time in my life as my grandmother was my rock. Melissa was right there to make sure that we were comfortable in every step of the process.