I have never been scared when it comes to my health or healthcare procedures. Having blood drawn? Doesn’t bother me. Surgery? No biggie. Stepping on the scale?  Well maybe. Being sick for weeks with no diagnosis in sight? They’ll eventually figure it out. Being tested for multiple incurable diseases? I’ll deal with it if it happens. Being admitted to the ICU with a heart rate of 160 and a blood pressure of 60s over 40s? Not a big deal. Being told I had to get a triple lumen central line placed in my jugular vein? TERRIFIED!  Strange, after weeks of being deathly ill, finding myself lying in an ICU bed knocking on deaths door, I was actually at peace with that; but being told they were going to place a line in my neck, well, that sent me over.

 I don’t know exactly what it was that had me so scared, but I was petrified. Maybe it was the lying flat on my back with my head turned to the left, not being able to move. Or maybe it was the surgical drape covering my head to my chest, making me feel claustrophobic. Or maybe it was all the medical professionals standing in the doorway looking on as the procedure started and my husband being asked to leave the room.  Or maybe it was the fact that a needle with a catheter attached to it was about to go through my jugular. (Brings a new meaning to going for the jugular, doesn’t it?) But, yes, it was the needle to the neck that had me panicked. Now, they “numbed” the area to minimize the physical pain and explained the procedure step by step, however; my fear was at an all-time high.  Being able to feel the needle puncture my neck, then the pressure of it being pushed into and down my dehydrated vein, all while being awake and knowing what they were doing, yeah, not my idea of fun. Lucky for me, I had a bedside nurse, who could see I was not okay.

 Keith was my nurse, and, in my book, there is no one better. He asked me if I was okay, to which I replied yes, but he knew better. Keith saw the fear in my eyes and heard it in my voice. As the nurse practitioner started the procedure, Keith grabbed a chair and rolled right up next to me. He asked me if I liked him to play some music, Classical? I said sure. He pulled out his phone put on classical music. Calming. He then lifted up the drape & stuck his head under it and looked me right in my eyes, remember my head was turned to the left. He stayed that way for the whole procedure, hanging out with me under that drape, while calmly speaking reassuring words.  He never left my side.  He couldn’t have been comfortable all bent over with his head under that drape, I wasn’t, and I was at least lying down. Keith, he was empathy in action. I once heard Dr. James Merlino speak about empathy. He said, “patients wish we (healthcare professionals) knew what it was like to be them, to be in the patient’s shoes.” This is exactly what Keith did for me. He put himself in my shoes.

And Keith didn’t just do this for me, he put himself in Jeff, my husband’s, shoes. He connected with Jeff on a personal level. I specifically remember Keith asking Jeff questions about his work. Once he learned Jeff worked in computers, he struck up a conversation about what type of computer to buy. Keith said he was needing to purchase a new computer and wanted to know Jeff’s opinion. Now, I do not know if Keith really needed to buy a computer or not, my point is Keith found a way to connect with Jeff in Jeff’s world. Plus, if even for a moment, Keith was able to distract Jeff  from the seriousness of my illness.  Keith also made sure to include Jeff in my care, updating him and asking for his input. He checked on Jeff, often, to see how he was doing and made it possible for Jeff to stay with me in my ICU room. This was a huge comfort to me to know my Jeff was being taken care of and that when I woke up, he would be by my side. 

Keith was my nurse for three of my 6-days ICU stay. For those three days, Keith never left our side. He advocated for me, for us. He provided quality and safe care. He treated us with respect. He kept us informed. He was kind and showed compassion. He genuinely cared. Keith saw us. A mom. A dad. A wife. A husband. A daughter. A son. Parents to Merrilea and Garris. We were more than just a patient and her spouse. He knew us. He knew the load we were carrying, especially Jeff.  The first part of Galatians 6:2 says “Carry one another’s burdens . . .”, Keith did this. Keith carried our burdens. He helped calmed our fears. He shared in our heartache. He took care of us in our most vulnerable moments. He stood in the gap for us. He was and  is a picture of empathy. Maya Angelou said, “I’ve learned people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” In regard to Keith, I will never forget. Keith helped save my life and for that I will forever be grateful.

Written in honor and celebration of National Nurses Week and of course, Keith!