After a long, hard battle with lung cancer, my youngest brother was ready to stop all treatment and move on with end-of-life care. He was in the ICU because he had stopped breathing at home the night before. He came in by ambulance. I am a retired nurse anesthetist, and I was trying to help him and his wife navigate the process. Morgan helped us every step of the way.

We needed the palliative care people to get the process going. Even though they were very busy, she let them know that the situation was urgent, and they responded very promptly. It was quickly determined that Hospice would need to be involved. After all his IVs had been discontinued and his medication stopped, Morgan did everything in her power to make him comfortable.

Sips of ginger ale, fresh pillows and sheets, and anything to ease all the fears the patient and family are overwhelmed with. She explained everything that was happening as well as what would come next. Things started to move very quickly, and I will say that, as much as we tried, adjusting was difficult. Morgan was the rock; she was the one who calmly answered our questions and contacted the appropriate people. I know an ICU nurse has many responsibilities. Taking that extra time for a non-ICU patient is going above and beyond.

Now comes the complex part. Hospice was trying to decide exactly where my brother could go. Whether in a hospital hospice, a hospice facility, or home hospice care. As these discussions were underway, my brother began to falter. They were giving him meds to keep him calm and comfortable, but as I sat there holding his hand and talking to him, I could watch his oxygen levels dropping. When Morgan came in, I told her about it, and then various Palliative care and Hospice people entered the discussion.

There had been no transport to the Hospice facility, but all of a sudden, they decided to bump someone and get him into the transport. But he was failing so rapidly that I knew he would die alone on the way, and that was absolutely breaking my heart. I began to cry and asked for someone to give me guidance because this was out of my lane. Palliative care was quiet; Hospice was pushing hard to load him into the transport, and it was only Morgan that looked into my eyes and said, “I think you want to stay here.”

She was quiet, and her eyes showed me so much compassion. You don’t learn that kind of compassion in any nursing program. That is something that comes from the heart, and without the compassion from her, I would have made a terrible decision that would have lived with me for the rest of my life. Because of her, I was able to turn off the monitors, hold my brother's hand, and let him take his final breath in peace.

I will always be grateful that Morgan was there that day because it was her simple gesture of compassion that made the difference between a future of regret or joy that my brother left this world at peace.