Kayla Eisenstein
October 2025
Kayla
Eisenstein
,
RN
AdventHealth Celebration
Celebration
,
FL
United States
But then—like an anchor in the chaos—RN Ms. Kayla stood beside me.
It was one of those ICU mornings where the air felt heavier than usual. The kind of shift where the chaos starts before the coffee even kicks in.
I was assigned two patients—one mercifully stable, the other extremely critical. My critically ill patient had dangerously high pulmonary pressures, elevated wedge pressure, low SvO2, and was on multiple pressors alongside heparin therapy. The complexity and acuity were overwhelming.
From the moment I stepped into the room, it was clear: this was going to be a battle. Bedside procedures stacked up like dominoes, high-risk medications lined my MAR like a minefield, and the call bells never stopped ringing.
I was drowning. Truly. If shifts were storms, this was a hurricane.
But then—like an anchor in the chaos—RN Ms. Kayla stood beside me.
No words can do her justice. She was managing two busy patients simultaneously, taking one to CT scans, nuclear medicine, and endoscopy, while also expertly caring for a patient with a bleeding issue and an intubated patient.
Despite this intense workload, if she wanted to help others, nothing could stop her. She was there for me right from 7:30 a.m., like clockwork, like grace.
She helped clean the patient—who was diaphoretic and lying on wet chucks and cloths—untangled the jungle of cables and lines (which were crisscrossed and unsafe to move, mixed between Swan-Ganz and heated high flow), and rearranged the room to make it feel less like a battlefield and more like a place of healing.
She brought comfort, calm, and clarity. She brought the meds, the supplies, the sanity. She got me back from the edge.
Being a nurse means more than just compassionate care for patients—it means compassion for colleagues too. Ms. Kayla’s unwavering support reminded me of the power of solidarity in nursing, especially when the pressure mounts and the stakes are life and death.
Together, she didn’t just help me survive the shift. And I could see it reflected in the patient’s eyes, too. Despite the chaos and discomfort, the patient felt very comfortable, truly seen, and deeply cared for. At the end of the day, she personally thanked Ms. Kayla for her incredible support—a heartfelt moment that spoke volumes about the impact of her kindness and dedication.
Yesterday was a big day. A hard day. But it was also a day of quiet heroism.
And to you, my sister in scrubs—I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You didn’t just help me. You saved me. And you made a difference that reached beyond us both.
I was assigned two patients—one mercifully stable, the other extremely critical. My critically ill patient had dangerously high pulmonary pressures, elevated wedge pressure, low SvO2, and was on multiple pressors alongside heparin therapy. The complexity and acuity were overwhelming.
From the moment I stepped into the room, it was clear: this was going to be a battle. Bedside procedures stacked up like dominoes, high-risk medications lined my MAR like a minefield, and the call bells never stopped ringing.
I was drowning. Truly. If shifts were storms, this was a hurricane.
But then—like an anchor in the chaos—RN Ms. Kayla stood beside me.
No words can do her justice. She was managing two busy patients simultaneously, taking one to CT scans, nuclear medicine, and endoscopy, while also expertly caring for a patient with a bleeding issue and an intubated patient.
Despite this intense workload, if she wanted to help others, nothing could stop her. She was there for me right from 7:30 a.m., like clockwork, like grace.
She helped clean the patient—who was diaphoretic and lying on wet chucks and cloths—untangled the jungle of cables and lines (which were crisscrossed and unsafe to move, mixed between Swan-Ganz and heated high flow), and rearranged the room to make it feel less like a battlefield and more like a place of healing.
She brought comfort, calm, and clarity. She brought the meds, the supplies, the sanity. She got me back from the edge.
Being a nurse means more than just compassionate care for patients—it means compassion for colleagues too. Ms. Kayla’s unwavering support reminded me of the power of solidarity in nursing, especially when the pressure mounts and the stakes are life and death.
Together, she didn’t just help me survive the shift. And I could see it reflected in the patient’s eyes, too. Despite the chaos and discomfort, the patient felt very comfortable, truly seen, and deeply cared for. At the end of the day, she personally thanked Ms. Kayla for her incredible support—a heartfelt moment that spoke volumes about the impact of her kindness and dedication.
Yesterday was a big day. A hard day. But it was also a day of quiet heroism.
And to you, my sister in scrubs—I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You didn’t just help me. You saved me. And you made a difference that reached beyond us both.