Being alone as a young woman in the hospital, relying on a PICC line and TPN, and already having experienced septic shock once in the last year, I feel scared a lot of the time in the hospital. I am scared of a central line infection and of bleeding out. Maybe even more so, I am scared of being alone and confused with new symptoms, and of my emotional needs being brushed off. Molly is an amazingly skilled nurse. She is meticulous, but with deft efficiency that indicates the years of care she has provided. She examines thoroughly, doesn’t hesitate to contact doctors, and (especially with my PICC line) sanitizes vigorously. But all of that—the fact that I feel my life is safer under Molly’s care than any other nurse I’ve ever had—isn’t the best thing about her. It is that she puts in extra effort every single night to make sure I am comfortable, that I feel safe, and that I am kept totally informed of what the plan is. On a night I had new pain and reported heart palpitations, Molly called telemetry, learned the details of my symptoms, paged the doctor, and made a plan with me on how to manage pain; completing expertly in fifteen minutes what would usually take over an hour or even all night. She checked on me often, comforted me without being dismissive, and made sure I was safe and comfortable: physically and emotionally. Molly deserves more thanks and recognition than I can provide. I am not scared when she is my nurse, the way I am the rest of the time I’m hospitalized. She doesn’t just do her job well; she exemplifies the ideas and ideals core to the concept of nursing itself.