August 2026 Honoree
Rose Chiv, RN
We’ve all heard the phrase, “It takes a village to raise a child.” Well, I think everyone, including adults, needs a “village.” In our everyday lives, this “village” includes significant others/spouses, friends, co-workers/bosses, neighbors, clergy, and people we may not even know well or happen to encounter only once. For a person to truly be happy and healthy, it requires a “village” for us all.
In today’s world, we often don’t give enough notice or credit to the little things others do: a smile, “hello” when passing, holding the door or elevator, asking how you’re doing or feeling, simply saying “thank you,” or “have a great day.” It’s the little moments of connecting with others that fill our lives with happiness, well-being, and tie us to our fellow humans.
I think the phrase “It takes a village” is especially vital for someone in the hospital. From the moment you enter the hospital building, you encounter valets, security personnel, registration staff, medical assistants, therapists, laboratory/radiology technicians, nurses, doctors, kitchen staff, maintenance, housekeeping, and countless others. No patient would have a good visit without each of them. They all deserve to hear that they matter and are an integral part of the “village” for the patients during their stay.
Some of the most vital individuals are nurses, though. Being a “nurse” is a calling. Not everyone is cut out to do it. The shifts can be long, tiring, and very busy. They constantly deal with different patient personalities, needs, and expectations. It takes compassion, a lot of energy, and skill to treat each and every individual the way they need.
Nurses and nursing aides are the staff patients interact with the most. Whenever a patient needs something or hits the call button, you likely encounter someone from the nursing staff. They may answer a concern, dress a wound, give a medication, help you be more comfortable, or even help you move to the bathroom or a wheelchair. They are simply a caring and compassionate human being for you when many people are at their lowest or most fragile state.
Nurses have a deep commitment to understanding the suffering of another human being and have the desire to help relieve that suffering. Sometimes it’s a physical need, and sometimes it’s an emotional or mental one. A good nurse sees and hears their patients, even when they aren’t speaking.
During my hospital stay, I met and interacted with many dedicated, skilled, and kind people. There was one nurse who made an exceptional effort to care for me with great compassion. She always took the time to see me as a human being with feelings and as an individual who needed physical care.
She noticed even little things I didn’t complain about. My IV port was irritated, sore, and needed repositioning. I had been there several days, not knowing this discomfort was not something to just tolerate, but something that could be addressed and made more bearable. She noticed this and contacted the appropriate staff to address it. The next day, I had a new and much more comfortable IV port put in.
She tracked down a kitchen staff member when I didn’t get salad dressing on my dinner tray. A small matter, unless you knew salads were a big component of what I was eating each day. Most people would have done nothing because I hadn’t voiced a complaint, but she knew it probably did matter to me. I even overheard her thanking the kitchen staff for running down to get some. It was one small moment, but it was the constant care and compassion she demonstrated that did not go unnoticed by me.
She talked with me about my kids and family. I have one child with a disability, who has forever altered my life. It didn’t seem like pity, just genuine human interest in them. My mother-in-law had recently been in a car accident and was dying in another hospital in a city 45 minutes away while I was admitted. We spoke about how it must be hard for my spouse to juggle two loved ones in two different hospitals not near each other.
She gave me medications with humor and care. Unfortunately, I spent my birthday in the hospital, and she spent a little extra time with me, or so it seemed, just to brighten my day. I was feeling a bit sad and forgotten on my birthday, and worried about my health and what the future would hold for me.
She asked about my friends. I revealed to her that I didn’t have many friends since having a disabled child. I told her I used to have two very close friends for over twenty years, but they couldn’t understand how having a special-needs child would change my time, availability, and focus, and thus, they had slowly disappeared over time. She reaffirmed what I was already feeling, and that they weren’t really good friends after all.
We talked about how my extended family was focused on my dying mother-in-law, and how my second child lived out of town and was just starting graduate school. My nurse was “part of my village” that day, when I desperately needed someone during that stay. I felt seen and heard by her on a human empathy level.
When the burdens of everyday life, work, illness, stress, frustration, or loss feel heavy, and we’re left to carry them on our own, it is then especially that we need that community or “village” to support us. Some of that mental weight is lifted from us and transferred to our community.
As we become adults, sometimes our “village” grows and expands, while for some others it may dwindle to almost nothing, creating skepticism in trying to find or recreate it. We may say, “Why bother?” because others have done it to us. The truth is we all need supportive and caring relationships or interactions that connect and bind us on a human level of compassion and empathy. I don’t care who you are, young or old; we all need a “village” to see and hear us.
Some days we may never even know how much those small (or large) interactions may mean to the other person, or even to our own well-being. On my birthday, I was lucky to have a very caring and compassionate nurse to be part of my “village,” if only for a few days in my lifetime. She brightened my hospital stay. She cared for me with skill and care, no matter how tired, busy, or hungry she was. She juggled all her patients and duties with kindness, dedication, and usually a warm smile.
Rose took excellent care of my physical needs, but it’s her compassion and ability to see and hear me as another human being that will remain with me always.
I truly hope this honor reaffirms to her how much her skills, dedication, and compassion for her patients and those working around her mean. And to remind her, “It takes a village” may be felt and greatly appreciated by others with her actions and words each and every day.
I wish her the best, but even more so I am truly grateful for all the other patients she will care for in the future who may never let her know. When we have a community, the weights we carry become lighter and we don’t feel so alone anymore. We can heal and move forward. The true magic is we go on to connect and enrich other lives. It’s the gift that keeps on giving to our fellow human beings.
Thank you, Rose! Thanks for being a part of my “village” when I needed it! I am truly grateful!
In today’s world, we often don’t give enough notice or credit to the little things others do: a smile, “hello” when passing, holding the door or elevator, asking how you’re doing or feeling, simply saying “thank you,” or “have a great day.” It’s the little moments of connecting with others that fill our lives with happiness, well-being, and tie us to our fellow humans.
I think the phrase “It takes a village” is especially vital for someone in the hospital. From the moment you enter the hospital building, you encounter valets, security personnel, registration staff, medical assistants, therapists, laboratory/radiology technicians, nurses, doctors, kitchen staff, maintenance, housekeeping, and countless others. No patient would have a good visit without each of them. They all deserve to hear that they matter and are an integral part of the “village” for the patients during their stay.
Some of the most vital individuals are nurses, though. Being a “nurse” is a calling. Not everyone is cut out to do it. The shifts can be long, tiring, and very busy. They constantly deal with different patient personalities, needs, and expectations. It takes compassion, a lot of energy, and skill to treat each and every individual the way they need.
Nurses and nursing aides are the staff patients interact with the most. Whenever a patient needs something or hits the call button, you likely encounter someone from the nursing staff. They may answer a concern, dress a wound, give a medication, help you be more comfortable, or even help you move to the bathroom or a wheelchair. They are simply a caring and compassionate human being for you when many people are at their lowest or most fragile state.
Nurses have a deep commitment to understanding the suffering of another human being and have the desire to help relieve that suffering. Sometimes it’s a physical need, and sometimes it’s an emotional or mental one. A good nurse sees and hears their patients, even when they aren’t speaking.
During my hospital stay, I met and interacted with many dedicated, skilled, and kind people. There was one nurse who made an exceptional effort to care for me with great compassion. She always took the time to see me as a human being with feelings and as an individual who needed physical care.
She noticed even little things I didn’t complain about. My IV port was irritated, sore, and needed repositioning. I had been there several days, not knowing this discomfort was not something to just tolerate, but something that could be addressed and made more bearable. She noticed this and contacted the appropriate staff to address it. The next day, I had a new and much more comfortable IV port put in.
She tracked down a kitchen staff member when I didn’t get salad dressing on my dinner tray. A small matter, unless you knew salads were a big component of what I was eating each day. Most people would have done nothing because I hadn’t voiced a complaint, but she knew it probably did matter to me. I even overheard her thanking the kitchen staff for running down to get some. It was one small moment, but it was the constant care and compassion she demonstrated that did not go unnoticed by me.
She talked with me about my kids and family. I have one child with a disability, who has forever altered my life. It didn’t seem like pity, just genuine human interest in them. My mother-in-law had recently been in a car accident and was dying in another hospital in a city 45 minutes away while I was admitted. We spoke about how it must be hard for my spouse to juggle two loved ones in two different hospitals not near each other.
She gave me medications with humor and care. Unfortunately, I spent my birthday in the hospital, and she spent a little extra time with me, or so it seemed, just to brighten my day. I was feeling a bit sad and forgotten on my birthday, and worried about my health and what the future would hold for me.
She asked about my friends. I revealed to her that I didn’t have many friends since having a disabled child. I told her I used to have two very close friends for over twenty years, but they couldn’t understand how having a special-needs child would change my time, availability, and focus, and thus, they had slowly disappeared over time. She reaffirmed what I was already feeling, and that they weren’t really good friends after all.
We talked about how my extended family was focused on my dying mother-in-law, and how my second child lived out of town and was just starting graduate school. My nurse was “part of my village” that day, when I desperately needed someone during that stay. I felt seen and heard by her on a human empathy level.
When the burdens of everyday life, work, illness, stress, frustration, or loss feel heavy, and we’re left to carry them on our own, it is then especially that we need that community or “village” to support us. Some of that mental weight is lifted from us and transferred to our community.
As we become adults, sometimes our “village” grows and expands, while for some others it may dwindle to almost nothing, creating skepticism in trying to find or recreate it. We may say, “Why bother?” because others have done it to us. The truth is we all need supportive and caring relationships or interactions that connect and bind us on a human level of compassion and empathy. I don’t care who you are, young or old; we all need a “village” to see and hear us.
Some days we may never even know how much those small (or large) interactions may mean to the other person, or even to our own well-being. On my birthday, I was lucky to have a very caring and compassionate nurse to be part of my “village,” if only for a few days in my lifetime. She brightened my hospital stay. She cared for me with skill and care, no matter how tired, busy, or hungry she was. She juggled all her patients and duties with kindness, dedication, and usually a warm smile.
Rose took excellent care of my physical needs, but it’s her compassion and ability to see and hear me as another human being that will remain with me always.
I truly hope this honor reaffirms to her how much her skills, dedication, and compassion for her patients and those working around her mean. And to remind her, “It takes a village” may be felt and greatly appreciated by others with her actions and words each and every day.
I wish her the best, but even more so I am truly grateful for all the other patients she will care for in the future who may never let her know. When we have a community, the weights we carry become lighter and we don’t feel so alone anymore. We can heal and move forward. The true magic is we go on to connect and enrich other lives. It’s the gift that keeps on giving to our fellow human beings.
Thank you, Rose! Thanks for being a part of my “village” when I needed it! I am truly grateful!
Thank you, Rose, for your exceptional compassion, advocacy, and dedication to your patients. You truly make a difference.
View More Honorees