"When I was sick you cared for me..."

It is truly an honor to care for those who are sick, weak, hurt. What a ministry. "When I was sick you cared for me..."


I held the hand of a 91-year old man as he took his last breath.
I brushed the teeth of a 19-year-old woman who lay silent in a coma.
I dried the tears of a trauma patient,filled with fear and grieving for her mother, who died in the same accident.
I shaved the weathered face of a silent man on life supporting drips and machines,while his wife whispered encouragement into his ears.



I hear the rhythm of the ventilators and the alarms that call me.
I watch the lines and numbers on the cardiac monitor and make quick and silent decisions.
I calculate,mix and titrate life-sustaining infusions.
I chart the story of my healing hands on flow sheets and graphs.
But I know that ultimately, it is not in our hands.


I laugh with my patients and pray silently over them at the same time.
I offer comfort to patients and families who wait for a heart transplant,sustained my hope and prayer,realizing what must occur before they can get a heart.
I am in awe of the resiliency of the human spirit.





I've felt joy at the miracle of reviving a life and helplessness in prolonging suffering.
I'm amazed how a diseased body can live for many years and a healthy one die in seconds.
I've marveled at the work of surgeons and yet see them baffled by the complexity of a single life.


I've seen the rich and the poor, the black and the white, the ignorant and the educated become equals in their fight for life.
I've seen death often enough that I'm not so afraid of it.
I've been humbled and privileged to be this close to the hand of God.
In all of this, I've received a million times over what I've given.
I AM A CRITICAL CARE NURSE.