Inspiration: A mom’s open letter to her son’s nurses
While reading recent nursing news online, we ran across this headline: “An open letter to the nurses at the Lafayette Family Cancer Center.”
Of course, we had to check it out. What we found was a deeply moving and sweet letter from one mom (Sarah) to the host of nurses who treated her ailing son.
We believe all nurses deserve letters like this one, and whether or not you actually have or will receive one throughout your career, you should read her letter (posted in part below) and give yourself a pat on the back. Though you may have not treated this particular patient, you’ve likely treated thousands like him. Know that you’re loved and thanked–during Nurse’s Week and every other week of the year!
Dear Nursing Staff,
You know my son. He is four and already a bit of a Casanova. Today he paid you a visit to be treated for his bleeding disorder and he brought you daffodils that he picked himself. He limped around the children’s floor handing out flowers and sass. More than a few of you blushed and giggled. It was endearing.
He strutted through the halls in his socks. He told knock-knock jokes and played with toys in the playroom area. He saddled up to his favorite comfy chair in the snack room and pleaded for the chocolate milk that you keep in the patient refrigerator. He knows this place. He feels safe here. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that my son is nearly as comfortable in the care of your ward as he is at home.
I won’t lie; it hurts me immensely that his second home is a hospital setting.
Part of his condition requires him to sit still while an IV is inserted into his vein so that he can be given a dose of medicine. This medicine helps his body to create blood clots. These blood clots ensure that his body heals from relatively minor wounds that I wouldn’t even notice on my own body. The thing is he is terrified of the process to get that IV in. His screams and gasping cries are well known on your floor.
But today, because of your compassion and untiring work with him, he had a breakthrough. He sat still. He did not scream. No one held him down. There were not hours lost and veins blown. There were no worried glances between you and me. The process to get medicine directly into my son’s veins went as smoothly as the brochures in the waiting room promise.
I want to thank you. I think everyone should thank you. I think you all deserve medals and trophies for the heart breaking work you do. Every. Single. Day.
Feeling a little teary-eyed? You have to read the rest of the letter (it gets even better!) on Sarah’s blog. Then, in the comments below, tell us if you’ve ever received a letter like this, or a special thank you of some sort, and how it affected you. We can’t wait to hear your stories!