Our 17-year-old daughter came to the hospital on a Friday night for emergency surgery. She had a perforated stomach due to an ulcer. This is something usually seen in 60-year-old men, not a 17-year-old female. Our daughter is one of 591 licensed female pilots in the US between the ages of 16-19 years old. We are used to seeing her conquer the world. Instead, she was in surgery longer than expected because they had to open her up to figure out what was wrong. This meant more pain and more recovery.

Stacy was N’s nurse for several days. She was the nurse that showed up with a smile. She checked on N and us. She encouraged N to get up and walk the halls to facilitate the healing process. She explained medications. She explained the procedures. She explained what to expect. She helped us get meals when we were all exhausted from running to keep our home and other child who needed to be attended to. She shared her personal stories. We looked forward to when she was with us. She handed things over at shift change and introduced the next nurse. She could have just disappeared – certainly exhausted herself, but she never did.

It’s been one week since our daughter was discharged, and I can still remember her name and kindness. Amidst COVID, with the hospital having staffing difficulties, the nurses often had to do all the work, and Stacy never complained. She helped us keep our world going when it seemed it was going to stop.