My Tribute to the Nurse Who Changed My Life

(Content courtesy of National Breast Cancer Foundation) Janelle Hail At 12:05 a.m., light filtered through my bed because the door to my hospital room opened. Nurses got here and went in any respect hours of the day and night. I used to be wide awake anyway, unable to seek out peace and quiet from my inner turmoil. My nearly perfect life had been shattered by the intrusion of breast cancer. I couldn’t understand what had happened. Neal and I had been married for 15 years and had three sons, ages 13, 10, and three. We were about to maneuver right into a latest house that Neal had built especially for us. Now, the day after my mastectomy, I used to be picking up the pieces of my life and attempting to work out find out how to cope. The nurse who got here into my room had a well-known face. I knew her from church, where she had seemed quiet and reserved. For some reason, our lives had never crossed paths, aside from the occasional greeting in a crowded church lobby. Frances Geiger, Registered Nurse That night she took my vital signs after which did something extraordinary. She pulled up a chair and sat down by my bed, and without saying a word, she took my hand. She held my hand in silence for about five minutes. She was sensitive to the incontrovertible fact that I had cried all my words and had nothing left to say. Others offered words of comfort, sometimes awkward, and well-wishes for my broken heart. Even a book was left for me infrequently, which meant nothing at that dark hour of my life. This dear lady gave me the gift of understanding and hope without making me struggle to hold on a conversation or make excuses for why something so terrible had happened to me. With her silence, she allowed my soul to rest and comforted me together with her gentle touch. It was as if Jesus were holding my hand and enveloping me in his love. The dark days passed and my life went on—a life stuffed with family, friends, and a future. Little did I do know that in my hospital stay, God would drop something into my heart, a deepening compassion that began with that sweet nurse. My husband and I founded NBCF a number of years later to assist women who had no technique to help themselves get free mammograms and medical care after they were battling breast cancer. A couple of years ago, Neal and I had lunch together with his brother Don and his latest wife. We had known her a few years ago after we all went to the identical church. In fact, Don and Debbie had dated as teenagers and had reconnected a few years later. I told Debbie concerning the kind nurse whose name I couldn’t remember. I had at all times desired to tell the nurse what her kindness had meant to me. Debbie’s face became serious, and her mouth dropped open. “That was my mother, Frances Gieger,” she said. A stunned silence fell over the table. The silence again said greater than any words could. Frances was dead, but her silence had left a legacy. Why can we feel like we have now to fill the air with words, as if anything we are saying will fix the situation? When talking to someone fighting breast cancer, concentrate to their needs and allow them to inform you what is essential to them. Janelle Hail, co-founder and CEO of the National Breast Cancer Foundation, was treated for breast cancer in 1980. She wrote this tribute as a strong reminder of the impact nurses make through their compassion. To comment, please send an email [email protected]For more details about breast cancer, read the CE modules: Navigating the Breast Cancer Journey, Part 1 Navigating the Breast Cancer Journey, Part 2