Paola Pedraza- Rivera, BSN, RN-BC

Being told you are going home and will have to catheterize yourself is frightening for any patient. Now imagine facing that fear in a language that is not your own, trying to take in something so personal and so intimidating through an interpreter line that moves slowly and rarely carries the reassurance a person needs in that moment. That was exactly where my patient was.
We have access to the GLOBO interpreter system, and we do use it often, but for this instance, it is difficult to convey medical teaching through it to someone with no medical background, especially something as sensitive as self-catheterization. Paola is a Spanish-speaking RN, and she is the nurse our unit turns to again and again when a patient needs to be truly understood.
On this day, Paola set aside patient care for a while without a moment of hesitation and came to sit with mine. She did not rush him. She walked him through every step in his own language, calmly and clearly, and she had him repeat each part back to her so that we could both be certain he understood. She answered every question he had, no matter how small, until the worry in his face gave way to confidence.
By the time he left, he knew he could do this on his own. I discharged him without any of the worry I had carried earlier that day, because Paola had given him more than instructions. She had given him the comfort and dignity of being cared for in a way he could finally understand.
What happened that day was not unusual for Paola. It is simply who she is. Interpreting is not the most visible part of how she cares for people. The deeper part is her presence.
She is the nurse who pulls a chair close to a frightened patient and stays until the fear settles. She is the one who steps into a room after a family has received news no one ever wants to hear, and instead of slipping away, she stays. She offers them a hand to hold, a box of tissues, and the quiet space to grieve without feeling rushed. And when a patient is nearing the end of life with no one at the bedside, Paola makes sure they are not alone. She sits with them, holds their hand, and speaks gently to them, so that their final hours are met with dignity and human company rather than silence.
She gives this kind of care quietly and constantly, often while carrying a full assignment of her own and asking for nothing in return. Whether she is teaching a nervous patient, comforting a worried family, or simply making sure no one faces a hard moment alone, Paola treats every person in front of her as someone who matters. That is the heart of nursing, and she lives it every single day.