One of my dearest friends was admitted last week and we nearly lost her. The care she received in the ICU was unparalleled; every single care partner, nurse, therapist, volunteer, or operations employee was beyond friendly, compassionate, patient, and forthcoming—real advocates for her needs and wishes, and so understanding and attentive when it came to friends and family in the room with her. Stunning, stunning care!

This particular RN, however, paid attention to her in a way that I find profound. Her hair was quite a mess from difficult intubation and from several sedated days with her head resting against the pillow; it was matted and dirty. Pavel asked if I might be able to braid her hair to help keep it neat—an observation I didn't expect, as the focus was mainly on around-the-clock attention to keeping her alive and stable. He helped me by propping her gently up so I could brush all the knots through, and when I asked if he could help me get her hair washed, he immediately called on the sweetest care partner, a young girl who brought bubbly, happy energy into the room.

She carefully washed and conditioned my friend's hair, and gave me a proper comb to get the last of the tangles out. The small things sometimes feel like the biggest gift. In a moment where my friend couldn't communicate with me and had no way of knowing I was there, this man helped me to do what I could to take care of the human, the female side of her; it showed me that to him, patients are individuals with names and stories and personalities and, above all, dignity. It just felt like the kind of thing he'd do for someone in his own life whom he loves, and it has stuck with me as an incredibly caring and tender moment in a week otherwise often colored by confusion, uncertainly, fear, and frustration.