In November, my dad had surgery for a very large bladder tumor. The recovery was extremely difficult, and he was not doing well. We went back to the clinic one week after for a post-surgery procedure, and Joi was his nurse. My mom and I were EXHAUSTED and full of worries.  Dad was pale, lethargic, no strength to walk so I pushed him upstairs in a wheelchair and he just seemed on the verge of crashing. I, too, am a nurse, and I had been watching his symptoms worsen for days. I came to this appointment with a lot of concern and questions, hoping my dad could be helped. It was the day before Thanksgiving, so the staffing was limited. Joi called Dad back for his procedure, and even though it's not typical to allow family back, she allowed us to go with him. She called it a "Thanksgiving treat".  While working with Dad, she listened to our story of his recovery, the good, the bad, and the ugly. Her concern grew, and she heard all the fears that were growing within us. You could see her taking a list of mental notes as we talked.

After the procedure, Joi got to work, advocating on Dad's behalf. She noted that his vitals were worsening while we were there. Dad's pressures were poor, and his color was pale and ashen. Our doctor wasn't available, but she wasn't leaving until someone provided care for Dad. So she found whomever she could. In moments, a team of people surrounded him- and she had dad fast-tracked to the ER for evaluation, where he was later admitted for transfusions and continued care. He spent a week admitted, getting back to his baseline. The relief was physically overwhelming.  For someone to HEAR us, feel our fear, and then take action and provide emergent care. It brought such a wave of relief that Mom and I wept soon after. Someone cared as we cared. It's an indescribable feeling, especially after such an intense and scary week, feeling so alone caring for someone you love.

Several weeks later, we were back for a follow-up. Dad is healing, up and about, pink and feisty. Joi saw his name and went to say hello. She found Mom and I sitting in the waiting room as well. I hadn't thanked her for that pre-Thanksgiving day. She shared with us that she checked on Dad every day after his admission, watching his numbers and calling the floor, and felt relief and excitement when he was released home a week later. That is compassion and care to the fullest. Beyond caring in the moment, she continued to care, long after we were her patients. It moved me to tears that she would take her time to have not only advocated and saved his life, but followed up to make sure he was OK after the fact as well. It's a special person and heart who does that. One who deserves recognition. In this difficult journey, we've spent a lot of time in the storms of life.  But it's moments and people like Joi who are the rainbow after the rain. She is truly her name, a Joy. And we are forever grateful.