CHA 2004 Healthcare Heroes Contest Essays

The theme for this year’s Hospital Week celebration, “Miracles Start with Caring Hearts,” was also the theme for CHA’s 2004 Healthcare Heroes essay contest.

As part of its own Hospital Week celebration, CHA congratulates the authors of this year’s 10 contest-winning entries. The following are the winning essays.

Marla Booker, Nurse Manager
Connecticut Children’s Medical Center

We see miracles every day in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) at Connecticut Children’s Medical Center, but this story is not exceptional because of a heroic medical intervention. It is the story of a nurse who helped the parents of a premature baby learn to love their child when only the bleakest outcome seemed likely. Happily, in the end, they were rewarded with the miracle for which they had prayed, a healthy baby boy.

Shortly after the birth, an ultrasound of the child’s brain revealed a horrible picture: a malformation with a large probability for disabilities or even retardation.

It was a devastating diagnosis for the parents, and raised many questions of whether their child would survive, or what quality of life he would have in the future. Their cultural background made them hesitant to bond with the child, as children with disabilities were viewed as outcasts. The parents wanted to know with certainty the level at which the child would function. Would he walk, talk, recognize his parents? Would he be able to run, or would he be confined to a wheelchair? Would he be educatable? Could he go to college?

From a medical standpoint, the child was stable. He was receiving basic respiratory support and feeding. He was not in a life-threatening situation. He would continue to be evaluated with ultrasound and monitored.

The patient’s nurse, Kathy Falcone, RN, was the child’s chief advocate. Kathy saw the glass as half-full. Although she struggled in her own mind with the parents’ concerns, she treated them with sensitivity and respect.

She encouraged them to learn to care for the child, to feed him and change his diapers. She taught them the emotional power of “kangaroo care,” of holding the child to the chest to promote skin-to-skin contact. The parents engaged gradually, but regularly asked Kathy and the NICU staff to join them in praying for a miracle for their child.

As his hospitalization continued and his discharge to home appeared imminent, another ultrasound was performed on the child’s brain, and this time there was miraculous good news: his brain showed significant improvement and appeared normal.

The parents’ prayers had been answered, but another miracle had happened as well: they had bonded with their little boy. They had come to accept the child about whom they initially had so much doubt and misgiving.

Even as they developed a relationship with their child, the parents also bonded with their nurse, who never gave up on their baby. She helped make that miracle happen. She did such a great job of listening, of not passing judgment, of not imposing her views, and continuing to educate and advocate for the child. She saw the child’s potential – that somehow he would be OK.

Judy Briley, Nurse Manager
Hartford Hospital

As a nurse manager of an OB High Risk/GYN surgical unit, I see miracles every day. Miracles come in different forms and different packages, but they all come from the hands of a “miracle worker,” whether human or divine. Nurses who come to work because they love what they do are true “miracle workers.” The politics of nursing is changing every day; yet, in spite of increasing workloads, higher acuity, tighter budgets, and increasing stress, the people who have chosen this profession remain the same. These professionals serve with compassion and concern and continue to smile and give excellent care to their patients.

Nurses who serve with professionalism know that nursing reaches far beyond the clinical aspects of healthcare. Nursing involves care of the heart, as well. They tirelessly give aid to the sick and the dying while attempting to provide comfort to the dying patient’s family. Nurses who know what it means to serve with compassion will tenderly bathe and dress a stillborn premature infant in preparation for the last moments that the parents and family will have to spend with that child. These caring nurses will move patients around so that a dying patient can have a “private room” for family and friends to visit and say their final goodbye. To these nurses, the term “miracle worker” applies, because the care and compassion that they show promotes the healing process in ways that performing mere nursing tasks as part of a nurse’s duty cannot.

These miraculous nurses realize that patients have needs beyond just the physical. So with their hearts, time, and own money, they reach beyond the physical to touch the emotional needs of those that they care for. These nurses host baby showers, give birthday parties, and have been known to follow up with home visits on their own time just to see that patients’ needs are being met. It is not uncommon for these nurses to buy shampoo, conditioner, hair dryers, and other necessary items just so patients will have basic necessities while they are in the hospital. To keep patients from being bored while in the hospital, nurses will also bring books, magazines, VCR tapes, and DVDs from home to keep patients entertained. Some nurses have been known to keep patients’ pets because there was no one else to do it.

These acts of love, given by people with big, caring hearts, are miracles indeed. Nurses who demonstrate such acts of selfless caring are healthcare heroes and “miracle workers.” They see value in people and value in demonstrating kindness to the sick and hurting. Everyone who has ever been touched by such a caregiver understands the profoundness of such compassion.

Sue Collins, Outpatient Diabetes Self-Management Education Program Coordinator
Day Kimball Hospital

Heroism comes with a price, usually at the expense of someone else’s misfortune. A firefighter goes into a burning building to save a victim. A policeman intervenes in a family dispute to save a child hiding under the bed. A bystander rescues a dog trapped out on the ice. A September day not so long ago created countless heroes, many more than we will ever realize. All of these heroes gave of themselves without a second thought in order to help someone in need.

As a healthcare provider for over 35 years, I have never thought of myself as that kind of a hero. I’ve come to work each day ready to put to work the gifts and talents I have received, and the education and knowledge I have amassed, and simply do my job. I hope that I make a difference in someone’s life, but I hardly feel like a hero if I do. To me, the true heroes in healthcare are not those of us who provide the advice, administer the treatments, and dole out the news, good and bad, but the patients we interact with.

There’s the family of a terminally ill child who cherish every minute they have left together; the wife who leads her spouse of 55 years around like a child in order to get through another day; the person confined to a bed, staring at the ceiling, depending on others for the most basic of needs. These are the heroes. We get to go home at the end of the day. They do not. They face pain and suffering (both physical and mental), and they go on with shreds of hope that tomorrow will be better. These are the tough guys, the stuff heroes are made of. These people face life head on. They accept their lot and deal with it with dignity. No one gives them a parade; no one gives them a plaque to hang on the wall. They know that their reward will come from a higher place. These are the people who make us look good. They do all the work and allow us to take the credit. Let’s never forget where we get permission to be healthcare providers: from the healthcare “receivers” – my heroes.

Carol Garvey, Manager, Communications Department
Norwalk Hospital

On the evening shift, Kim, the hospital switchboard operator on duty, received a frantic call from a patient who had just been talking to her father at her parents’ home in Niantic, and thought he was in the midst of having a heart attack. Kim obtained the necessary information and not only contacted the Niantic police and emergency services, but also called the nursing supervisor to the patient’s room to provide emotional support.

Upon arrival at the parents’ home, the paramedics discovered that the patient’s mother had also suffered a heart attack while attempting to call 911 for her husband. Both parents survived, and because of Kim’s quick thinking and professional manner, the patient was convinced that Kim had saved her parents’ lives.

When all had settled down, Kim said she had never experienced such a rewarding feeling. “I was just doing my job, but this time I felt like I made a difference, and it felt wonderful.”

Sally Howell, Manager of Diagnostic Imaging
Yale-New Haven Hospital

Was it a miracle or just fate?

Thirty-three years ago, I began my career in healthcare as a radiologic technologist. Over the years, I have worn many hats, both as a direct and indirect heathcare provider. For the past 10 years, as manager of business/support services in diagnostic imaging, I have found many opportunities to interact with patients, family members, and visitors, and I encourage staff to take advantage of these opportunities. They offer rewards of self-gratification beyond what you could ever imagine.

Last year, on my way to a meeting, I stopped in the hospital café for a coffee to go. As I waited in the checkout line, I noticed an elderly woman trying to balance a cup of coffee and a bagel, along with her pocketbook and an overnight bag. She was alone and appeared timid and upset. I began chatting with her and offered assistance with her bags. As we reached a dining table, I asked if I could help with anything else, and she began to cry. She had received a ride from Waterford, had been waiting for admission to the hospital, and had not eaten anything all day. I could see that she needed company so I asked if I could join her. She responded, “No, you must be too busy. I will be fine.” I told her my day had been hectic and I could use a break myself. (She was so sweet that I really wanted to sit and visit with her.)

We sat and talked about many things. I enjoyed her company and she mine. I escorted her to the Admissions Office and told her I would check in with her once she was settled. She thanked me numerous times for my help and told me that it was a miracle that I was there for her when she felt so alone and needed a friend.

I went to my meeting a bit late, but felt like I had done something really meaningful. And isn’t that what healthcare is all about? It seemed like such a small thing, and yet it felt so good. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and wondering if someone would take the time to comfort and help my mother or grandmother, if they had the same experience. I hope so! I know how much this can mean, not only to the patient but also to the individual providing the support.

After my meeting, I went to her room. She greeted me at the door with a hug, telling me again that our meeting seemed like a miracle and that she knew I would come to see her. Being alone, confused, and not sure of what may happen next can sometimes be very frightening. I visited her daily during her inpatient stay and have continued to keep in touch since her discharge. Whenever I speak with her, she thanks me and tells me how wonderful the people at our hospital are. I have found a friend in her as she has in me.

Experiences like this make the frustrations in a job seem more manageable and less significant. I am proud to be a healthcare professional.

Mark Leggitt, Director of Patient Satisfaction
Bristol Hospital

There is a young lady working at Bristol Hospital whose patients truly believe is an angel who has been sent here from heaven to help them. I know this because I work with her and read the letters, cards, and survey comments they write about the joy she brings into their lives. Her name is Andy Adams and she is a Patient Partner.

Andrea “Andy” Adams helped develop and grow the Patient Partner role for the past six years. The role was to be different from that of patient advocate in that Partners were not only to work with healthcare team members to address the daily needs and complaints of patients, but also to develop life-long relationships with both the patient and with their family members. Andy took this idea a step farther and developed long-term friendships with her patients.

Being hospitalized can be a frightening experience, as we in the healthcare profession clearly understand. When we, or one of our family members is hospitalized, it is comforting to know that we have “friends on the inside” that will take care of us. But the general public often have no inside contacts to help smooth the way and comfort them when they are hospitalized. And we know that many little things can upset patients that can be resolved “on the spot.” Patient partners work with members of the healthcare team to fill these needs.

Maintaining contact with former patients is a function that Andy devotes an enormous amount of time to. After discharge, each patient gets a Christmas and birthday card with a handwritten note from her. Many have commented that these are the only cards they receive from anyone and what a joy it brings to them each year. She also mails out sympathy cards to family members when a patient or member of that patient’s family passes and will often attend the calling hours of her “friends” to offer her genuine sympathies to the surviving family members. They welcome her as a true member of their family.

But Andy takes her job beyond all this. Every patient she sees gets their daily hug from her and looks forward to the special little sparkle that she brings into their hospital experience. The testimonials we receive from patients describing how this affects their stays are heartwarming.

The job doesn’t stop there. Because she lives in an area near the hospital, Andy often sees her patients in the grocery store or at other businesses. She’s never too busy to stop and chat with them, which creates wonderment among her own family who ask, “how come it always takes you an hour just to get a gallon of milk?” With her usual smile, Andy lets her family know that this is something she enjoys and wants to do, not something she has to do.

Andy has developed friendships with several thousand patients during the past few years. And most would agree with those who take the time to write it – Andy just might be an angel sent from heaven.

Lori Mercuri, Manager of Respiratory and Pulmonary Services
MidState Medical Center

All of us in healthcare have taken care of patients or been in situations that have left an indelible mark on us. While these experience can be upsetting or even traumatizing, some can be enriching and heartwarming and have a lasting effect on us.

I’d like to tell a story of love and tragedy that I was privileged to experience here at MidState Medical Center. An elderly gentleman presented to our Emergency Department (ED) complaining of severe back and abdominal pain. The patient, John, had taken ill at home and had been rushed in by ambulance. He was alert and oriented, and his wife, Helen, was by his side. He appeared critically ill. Within minutes, his pain increased, his vital signs decompensated, and he needed to be intubated. A CT scan of his abdomen showed a dissecting aortic aneurism, with copious blood in the peritoneal space. His blood pressure was dangerously low, but he remained conscious. Because of the anticipated poor outcome of the surgical repair, the patient, his wife, and the physician opted for comfort measures and hoped for a peaceful death in the ED, as he certainly wouldn’t make it to the intensive care unit (ICU).

Helen requested that their son, Bill, be called and asked to come to the hospital. The ED nurse medicated John for pain, the social worker covering the unit supported Helen, and I manually ventilated him as we waited for his son to arrive. Even though we were in a bustling ED, our team did the best we could to provide a peaceful, calm environment for the family by dimming the lights, pulling the curtains, and closing the door to the room.

What happened next is something that will never leave my memory.

Helen spoke constantly to John during his final, excruciating hour. She wanted him to stay alert and alive until Bill arrived and could see his father one last time. She asked John if he remembered the day they met and reminded him of some of the things they had done during their courtship. She spoke about their wedding day, reviewing who was in the wedding party, and then the honeymoon they had gone on. Helen was bent over John so that he could hear her clearly. Her voice was calm, strong, and expressive, so that she could convey the emotion she felt as she spoke to him. She wasn’t crying. In fact, she was smiling. She never stopped stroking his arm and looking into his eyes.

Then Bill arrived. He was visibly shaken and went over to John and told him that he loved him. Then he took his place next to his mother. Helen continued on. She said to John, “Remember the day Billy was born? Oh, John, we were so happy to have a son, and I am so happy to have you as a husband. You are a wonderful man and I love you. We have been so lucky.”

John died a few minutes later with his wife and son at his side.

I am, by profession, a respiratory therapist. Because of my profession, I have been witness to some of the most poignant moments in people’s lives. Some have been joyous, some tragic, and some bittersweet. All have been meaningful to me.

Helen demonstrated the miracle of love and strength. She didn’t let the impending loss of her husband prevent her from helping him to die and letting him know just how much he was loved. She could have sat in a chair against the wall and tried to console herself. Instead, she comforted her husband.

When it was over, and the good-byes had been said, Helen and Bill thanked us for what we had done for John. Yes, it was tough to watch, and we all wept, but it was the most beautiful expression of love that I have ever seen, and I will carry her lesson with me forever.

Susan Tracy Moore, Hospice and Palliative Care Network Director
Johnson Health Network

It was a beautiful spring day. The air was crisp but the sun was warm. The world was coming alive after a long winter. I was walking across campus with another nurse when she said, “I have someone for you to see. He has COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease), very short of breath. He is headed for trouble and I don’t think anyone has talked to him about a living will.”

As a hospice nurse, even in administration, I spend some part of every day talking to someone about dying. Talking to someone about dying is a very intimate conversation. My experience is that it is often harder for the professional than for the patient. I started my nursing career on an inpatient oncology unit where the nurse/physician team was very close. I used to tease the physicians as they nudged me toward a room and asked me to have the conversation they could not bear. Now I close my eyes, feel their support, and muster up the courage to enter the room.

Each person I meet is unique, but there is a common thread in these conversations. Most patients appreciate the attention and concern and readily open their souls. This man was no different. I explained that part of my job at the hospital was to ensure that patients understand their choices. Did he have a living will? Did he understand what one was? He had a vague idea of what a living will was and had actually made an appointment with a lawyer before this admission. He had discussed his wishes with his wife but not with his doctor. He had a number of questions. I started to answer his questions. He peppered the conversation, between breaks to catch his breath, with tidbits of his life. The drawn, gray man transformed himself into a robust construction worker who worshipped his wife and was proud of his children. He shared his triumphs and disappointments. He was proud of his work, his hobbies, and his home. His main concern was for his wife. Since he had expressed his wishes, I suggested that a written living will would be a gift to his wife. She could rely on his written instruction when he could no longer talk to her. She would not be alone in her difficult decisions.

Our conversation came to a natural closing point. He had no more questions but ended by saying, “I’ve had a good life, lots of good things, including meeting you today. Thank you.”

When I stepped back into the hall, the primary nurse asked me, “How did it go? Was he very upset?” To her surprise, I had to answer, “No, he thanked me.” Patients need our honesty and our concerned attention. They deserve our respect. All I did was spend an hour enjoying the company of a wonderful man. He did much more. He faced his disease head-on and opened his soul to a total stranger. Who was the hero?

Mary-Beth Nolan, Clinical Resource Nurse
Middlesex Hospital

It was not an atypical night in our Emergency Department (ED) – every room was full, patients lined the hallway and the waiting room wait was at least two hours – when the emergency medical services (EMS) call came in. They were 10 minutes out with a cardiac arrest. We began the process of preparing for resuscitation by moving patients to free a monitored bed, opening the crash cart, flushing lines, and mobilizing necessary staff. When the patient arrived, she was intubated, the second round of ACLS (advanced cardiac life support) drugs had been administered and the monitor was reading asystole. Attempts at pacing were unsuccessful. After 45 minutes, the ED physician had contacted the family, who wished that all efforts at continued resuscitation be terminated – not an unjustifiable request in the case of an elderly nursing home resident with a prolonged down-time.

Once the care and comfort status was ordered, the room quickly emptied of staff and I busied myself with removing unnecessary equipment. At my side was Jane Drennen, a patient care tech. She helped me make the patient presentable for her family. We washed her face of secretions, changed her gown and linens, and placed a box of Kleenex at the bedside. I went to ask the physician how long before the family would arrive, only to find out that they would be unable to come. I headed back to the room trying to figure out a game plan and there was Jane. She had pulled up a stool and was sitting at the bedside. I didn’t need to figure anything out. Jane had already done that.

And there, within the chaos of a busy ED, behind a drawn curtain, sat a true healthcare hero. Jane sat using the most advanced piece of equipment in our department – her heart. She sat holding the hand of a woman she’d never met before brushing this woman’s brow and whispering words of comfort to her. And less than an hour later, as the heart of this elderly woman stopped forever, she was not alone. Jane was there.

That night I was reminded why I became a nurse. It was not for the high-tech equipment, innovative procedures, or the newest generation of drug therapy. It was to care for the patient – to comfort a life – from birth to death.

Doreen Tarascio, Communications Manager
Saint Francis Hospital and Medical Center

As the Communications Manager at Saint Francis Hospital and Medical Center, I work closely with our team of healthcare professionals to educate the public about the advanced technologies, accomplished physicians, and amazing results we have at the hospital. While each of the opportunities to disseminate information is unique and compelling, sometimes a story comes across my desk that leaves me in total awe of the miracles that are occurring around me on a daily basis.

One such story involves a pregnant 36-year-old woman who developed symptoms of a heart attack while in labor at Saint Francis. Emergency life-saving measures, administered by a skilled team of professionals, resulted in the patient delivering a healthy baby and surviving the cardiac arrest.

The patient was at 38 weeks in her pregnancy and presented with vaginal bleeding and in active labor. While in labor, she developed severe, persistent chest pain. The obstetricians in attendance, Drs. Stephen Fishman and Maria Ellis, made an astute and timely decision that this was different from the usual discomfort a woman may experience during labor. They contacted Dr. Carolyn Kosack, a cardiologist, to further evaluate the patient. An electrocardiogram (ECG) was obtained, revealing an acute myocardial infarction, or heart attack. The patient was nearly ready to deliver. After further testing, it was determined her heart attack was due to a blockage in a coronary artery. She was brought immediately to the cardiac catheterization laboratory, where she underwent an emergency coronary angioplasty with placement of a stent by Dr. Murthappa Prakash to open the patient’s artery and restore blood flow to her heart muscle.

At the end of the procedure, the patient was fully dilated and was taken directly to the delivery room, where she delivered a healthy baby girl with Dr. Fishman and Dr. Adam Borgida in attendance. An additional interventional procedure, which was required to control post-partum bleeding, was performed by Dr. Robert Field. The patient had a stable hospital course from that point on and was discharged to her home with her young daughter seven days later.

This was a very rare occurrence and only a few cases such as this have been reported in the scientific literature to date. The patient had no identifiable classic cardiac risk factors for coronary disease. She also had an uneventful pregnancy. This was an extremely challenging situation, but due to the incredible teamwork of the doctors, nurses, and all staff involved, a miraculous outcome was realized for both mother and baby.

While the incident itself overwhelms me in terms of medical expertise and knowledge, I do marvel at the team of healthcare providers that assisted in this miracle. In recounting the story, each doctor was emphatic that the successful outcome would not have been possible without strong and outstanding teamwork. Each doctor deferred to the expertise of the other professionals involved in the situation. Each doctor recognized how remarkable the patient was by remaining composed, trusting, and extremely co-operative. And each one acknowledged that there was a power far greater than medicine alone that was watching over all of them on that blessed morning.

To me, the physicians on this team are heroes of healthcare. Heroes because they know the challenges they face each day are best met with the assistance of others, because they know when to ask for and when to offer assistance, and because they know that regardless of all the degrees they hold and knowledge they have, heroic acts often involve more than just one individual.

This year’s 10 Healthcare Heroes contest winners, as well as those co-workers described in their winning essays, will be featured in the 2004 CHA Annual Report and recognized at CHA’s Annual Meeting on Tuesday, June 22, 2004, at The Aqua Turf Club in Southington.  CHA salutes all of this year’s Healthcare Heroes essay contest winners, as well as the thousands of incredibly dedicated and talented healthcare workers across Connecticut for all that they do every day to help make “miracles happen every day” and provide the healthcare safety net that we all depend upon.