A Love Letter To Nurses

Recently, I found myself in a keyboard fight while on the Threads tag for nurses. A nurse was having a rough day and wondered if she had chosen the right profession. She wanted to quit. I encouraged her to hold on and that her patient’s needed her and the work she does matters.

I commented that I think nurses are angels here on earth. But I almost lost my mind when someone replied that my belief was exaggerated. I felt like the Benita Butrell character from the comedy show, In Living Color. “I ain’t one to gossip…but I will fight you over a nurse!”

I was so upset that I decided to write a love letter to nurses, letting them know that they are appreciated. But more importantly, they too, matter. As a ten year stroke survivor, I have been cared for by hundreds of Certified Nursing Assistants (CNAs), nurses and doctors. The CNAs gently cared for me while allowing me to maintain my dignity. The ability to do so is a gift.

I marvel at the doctors who spent many years in school mastering their specialties. But nurses? They hold a special place in my heart. Nurses are the backbone of the healthcare industry. They are the ones who spend the most time with patients. They know their patients better than the doctors. They feed doctors everything they need to know before even meeting the patient.

They become familiar with family members as they sit bedside, praying for a miracle. I am in awe at how they literally nurse their patients back to health. And when death is inevitable, I wonder how they manage their own grief.

I wonder who they are outside those hospital walls. How do they crack a patient’s ribs while trying to save their life only to watch them take their last breath? How do they go home and be loving mother’s, father’s and partner’s after losing a patient they have bonded with? What made them want to become a nurse, knowing that life and death are fleeting on a daily, hourly basis?

I often ask my nurses, “How are you today?” My heart becomes heavy when they look surprised. It dawns on me that most patients don’t care nor think about it given the severity of their health issues.

These are their stories.

MyAsia, whom I refer to as As (pronounced as “Age”) my niece, is our “family doctor.” I realized that I loved her more when she became a nurse. And yet, I was not able to seperate who she is personally from who she is professionally. That is, until my mother’s last sibling transitioned. We raced home when my cousin called my sister. “You guys need to come home.”

Our hearts were pulled in a thousand directions as we grieved for our aunt. And yet, we had to be strong for our mother. This was her little sister. It felt like a spiritual awakening as we surrounded my aunt’s bed. Our collective voices became hymns as we told her we loved her and it was okay to go.

MyAsia gave us updates while intermittently checking her pulse. Her breath became shallow until MyAsia checked her pulse one last time. My mother tried to stifle her cries when MyAsia removed her stethoscope and slowly shook her head. I said, “It’s okay to cry, mommy.”

We broke down as my mother sobbed. We prayed over my aunt as MyAsia and my sister prepared to wash her body and change her pajamas. Everyone stepped out of the room to give my aunt the dignity she deserved.

I called As a couple days upon returning home. “As, auntie just wanted to tell you that you are an amazing nurse. I am so proud of you. I love you as my niece but I had never seen you at work. The way you took care of aunt Doll…I don’t think I could have done it. That was the first time I saw you as a nurse and not my niece. I know you wanted to cry, but you didn’t. You were a nurse first. When did you know you wanted to become a nurse?”

She chuckled. “Thank you, auntie. You probably don’t remember but when I was twelve, I begin volunteering in the activities department of a long-term care facility. As I got older, I worked as a home health aide and a CNA before becoming an LPN in 2015.”

“I know but even now, how do you manage having a husband, three children and two dogs? That’s crazy. How do you manage your own mental health?”

She scoffed. “I don’t even know sometimes, auntie. The hardest part about being a nurse is the mental and emotional responsibility that comes with the job. People often see the physical work but they don’t always see what nurses carry home with them. We’re expected to be caregivers, advocates, problem solvers and sometimes emotional support for patients and their families. As a nurse manager, I’ve also learned how challenging it is to balance the needs of my residents, my staff and the expectations of leadership. Nursing requires you to give so much of yourself, even on the days when you don’t have much left to give.”

“Working in long-term care has taught me that nursing is about much more than administering medications and providing treatments. We become part of their everyday lives and, sometimes, even an extension of their families. The relationships we build, the trust they place in us and the opportunity to provide comfort in difficult moments has shaped the nurse that I am today. Those experiences remind me that even the smallest acts of kindness can make a lasting difference.”