Laura Blair
June 2021
Laura
Blair
,
RN
PICU
Lucile Packard Children's Hospital Stanford
Palo Alto
,
CA
United States
I knew Laura would get us through this, whatever the outcome.
Laura and our daughter, what can I say? Laura was on during some of the worst moments with our girl. The moments where parents hold their breath and wait and pace and wonder, where we are on a scale not understood. Laura was our nurse, our daughter's nurse, during those times. One quality about Laura that I admire is her ability to keep her cool. She never raised her voice, she has an even temperament, and she is calm and cool about things. I admire that quality in her, and it helped me stay focused on what mattered: our daughter.
I recall talking to one of the nursing managers, asking if I could have one thing, just one thing (and I added because as a parent you don't get many things when your child is in the hospital), it would be to have Laura be her nurse every shift she worked. The nice manager smiled and explained this and that and why they couldn't make a promise. So, I prayed she would be our daughter's nurse and she was during the most critical moments, especially on the last day of her life. Again, like the others I am writing to you about, there is not one thing that stands out. It is a collective of actions and interactions that I had and had witnessed with these nurses that make me sit here and relive some of the most trying moments in my life.
Laura was on when our daughter went in for one of her many surgeries. I remember she would check in with us, she would give us updates as she learned them, and she would discuss what to expect when our daughter returned. I always had confidence to leave- I knew that Laura loves and loved my girl and she cared for us. I knew she would get us through this, whatever the outcome.
I left one day in the morning, with a plan to come back the next day. Laura was on in the morning I left- I had plans to go to work for a minute (because you know you try to be as normal as possible when your daughter is dying) and then I would head down. I called like I always did to check-in before I left. Laura was on and she answered the phone. I asked my normal question, “How are the two of you doing this morning?”
Laura was quiet, there was a pause, I remember she said, “I think you need to come here now.”
I knew then that our daughter was telling us what she needed. Laura didn't have to say a lot, I asked questions, she quietly answered. Her normal enthusiastic self was gone, and she was patient as we drove. We drove slowly, wanting to preserve the day, wanting to make believe that this nightmare wasn't happening. I remember arriving to the PICU, I remember Laura was there, fussing over my girl, fighting for her until the end. I remember saying, “It's time, isn't it. She is ready, huh?” Laura, didn't smile, she looked away and shook her head yes.
Laura had taken extra special care of my girl in a way that was hard for me. That day, that day we honored our daughter, I am so grateful Laura was there. She was so respectful, calm, and allowed us to be human. I'm grateful she was our daughter's last nurse.
I recall talking to one of the nursing managers, asking if I could have one thing, just one thing (and I added because as a parent you don't get many things when your child is in the hospital), it would be to have Laura be her nurse every shift she worked. The nice manager smiled and explained this and that and why they couldn't make a promise. So, I prayed she would be our daughter's nurse and she was during the most critical moments, especially on the last day of her life. Again, like the others I am writing to you about, there is not one thing that stands out. It is a collective of actions and interactions that I had and had witnessed with these nurses that make me sit here and relive some of the most trying moments in my life.
Laura was on when our daughter went in for one of her many surgeries. I remember she would check in with us, she would give us updates as she learned them, and she would discuss what to expect when our daughter returned. I always had confidence to leave- I knew that Laura loves and loved my girl and she cared for us. I knew she would get us through this, whatever the outcome.
I left one day in the morning, with a plan to come back the next day. Laura was on in the morning I left- I had plans to go to work for a minute (because you know you try to be as normal as possible when your daughter is dying) and then I would head down. I called like I always did to check-in before I left. Laura was on and she answered the phone. I asked my normal question, “How are the two of you doing this morning?”
Laura was quiet, there was a pause, I remember she said, “I think you need to come here now.”
I knew then that our daughter was telling us what she needed. Laura didn't have to say a lot, I asked questions, she quietly answered. Her normal enthusiastic self was gone, and she was patient as we drove. We drove slowly, wanting to preserve the day, wanting to make believe that this nightmare wasn't happening. I remember arriving to the PICU, I remember Laura was there, fussing over my girl, fighting for her until the end. I remember saying, “It's time, isn't it. She is ready, huh?” Laura, didn't smile, she looked away and shook her head yes.
Laura had taken extra special care of my girl in a way that was hard for me. That day, that day we honored our daughter, I am so grateful Laura was there. She was so respectful, calm, and allowed us to be human. I'm grateful she was our daughter's last nurse.