Mary E Miller
February 2026
Mary E
Miller
,
MSN, RN
Extended Medical Care Unit
Bronson Methodist Hospital
Kalamazoo
,
MI
United States
Mary ran out to her car, removed her trailer hitch, and brought it in for the patient.
I would like to nominate Mary Miller for a DAISY Award. One night, Mary had a patient who came out into the hallway asking about lead. He said he needed to touch the lead, and he had to go into the boiler room and touch the lead. At first, Mary just thought he was confused. After having a conversation with the patient, Mary found out that in his religion, lead is thought to have healing powers. Mary tried to problem-solve what she could find to help him out. Mary ran out to her car, removed her trailer hitch, and brought it in for the patient. The patient spent the rest of the night with the trailer hitch in bed with him and was so much calmer. Thank you for going the extra mile, Mary!!!
***
The second or third day that He was in the hospital, he told me about a vivid dream. (H had never had a drink or a drug in all his life, and opioids were potent). In the dream, his father gave each of his three sons a power. It was for protection and healing. It was secret and a gift from forefathers years ago. I have forgotten the gifts to the other two, but H’s gift was a power from metal. If he could hold iron (which he pronounced “E run”), he would be free of pain, and the cancer would be gone. He knew it was a dream, but urged me to believe it and find some metal to touch. That room and its furnishings are plastic. Plastic. He wanted to hold metal to be well. Beyond the tines in plugs and wire rings to hold equipment on the wall, there was no "e run". I told H that we might ask for something from the nurse's station to hold, but then I forgot about it. He slept.
The next morning, I learned that he had torn out his IVs, gotten dressed, and was generally upset with everyone on the second floor north during the night. But he was now back in bed and dozing. I tracked down a nurse to ask about it, and she said that yes, he was disoriented, and there was some ethnic custom involved. But he is calm now, and the IV is replaced.
A few days later, I learned the rest of the story. Mary, the night nurse, had found H in the hall and was heading full tilt to the exit. His arms were bloody; she convinced him to sit down and tell her about it. He needed to go to the metal room immediately. The metal room. He would be well there. He needed to go now. Mary learned more as she leaned in. He needed to hold "e run". I cannot guess how long she listened until she caught on. She left H with a colleague and went down to her car. She brought up a trailer hitch and put it into H’s hand. Later, H reported, “I saw her praying on her knees. I held the iron. I could sleep”. Calm. New IV. Sleep. What kindness! What a Healer!
***
The second or third day that He was in the hospital, he told me about a vivid dream. (H had never had a drink or a drug in all his life, and opioids were potent). In the dream, his father gave each of his three sons a power. It was for protection and healing. It was secret and a gift from forefathers years ago. I have forgotten the gifts to the other two, but H’s gift was a power from metal. If he could hold iron (which he pronounced “E run”), he would be free of pain, and the cancer would be gone. He knew it was a dream, but urged me to believe it and find some metal to touch. That room and its furnishings are plastic. Plastic. He wanted to hold metal to be well. Beyond the tines in plugs and wire rings to hold equipment on the wall, there was no "e run". I told H that we might ask for something from the nurse's station to hold, but then I forgot about it. He slept.
The next morning, I learned that he had torn out his IVs, gotten dressed, and was generally upset with everyone on the second floor north during the night. But he was now back in bed and dozing. I tracked down a nurse to ask about it, and she said that yes, he was disoriented, and there was some ethnic custom involved. But he is calm now, and the IV is replaced.
A few days later, I learned the rest of the story. Mary, the night nurse, had found H in the hall and was heading full tilt to the exit. His arms were bloody; she convinced him to sit down and tell her about it. He needed to go to the metal room immediately. The metal room. He would be well there. He needed to go now. Mary learned more as she leaned in. He needed to hold "e run". I cannot guess how long she listened until she caught on. She left H with a colleague and went down to her car. She brought up a trailer hitch and put it into H’s hand. Later, H reported, “I saw her praying on her knees. I held the iron. I could sleep”. Calm. New IV. Sleep. What kindness! What a Healer!