Since my training days in the Combined Internal Medicine and Pediatrics Residency at Ohio State University Medical Center and Columbus Children’s Hospital (1996–2000), to my days in private practice (2000–2008), to my days practicing as a hospitalist physician (2008–present), I’ve had the great fortune of working with, collaborating with, learning from, and befriending many nurses who roam this Earth and, especially, my surrounding community. With those thoughts in mind, I pen this thank-you letter to them, in honor of them, ahead of the forthcoming Nurse’s Week 2025.
To that nurse (whose name escaped me long ago) who embraced me on my first day in OSU’s neonatal intensive care unit (NICU); who introduced me to my first tiny human who barely fit in the palm of my hand; who educated me that although she was not a doctor, she had over 30 years’ experience as a NICU nurse and that she could teach me a thing or two; who protected me from my ravenous neonatology attending physician; who was the one and only one standing by my side, guiding me, supporting me, and cheering me on as I intubated my first 24-week premature infant, securing its airway and saving its life in the wee hours of the night; the one person helping a fresh, young, inexperienced intern … I thank you.
To Crystal, my personal nurse in my private practice, my friend, my confidante, who guided me, shielded me, protected me from the nuances of the business side of medicine while simultaneously caring for, loving, and protecting our patients; who knew me better than me; she, who was always one step ahead of my thoughts, decisions, and actions; who was always there with me in those moments, with tears in her eyes, when I had to deliver news no parent ever wants to hear; who, in the office setting, without her presence, I could not survive … I thank you.
To that nurse (whose name also escapes me) in that stairwell between central supply and surgery departments, on that Christmas Eve when the clock struck midnight and turned into Christmas Day in 2013, when I yearned to be home with my wife and children awaiting Santa’s arrival yet, rather, trudged along, angrily, working a hectic night shift in the hospital, mad at the world, running from the ER to the ICU to the third floor, after failing miserably at resuscitating a patient, when I yearned heavily for but could not find the time for a debriefing session; he, that nurse, who sang a tenor rendition of O Holy Night while the acoustics of that stairwell reverberated off the cinderblocks and penetrated our souls, reminding us of the honor, the privilege, the saintly care we provided to our fellow citizens on that night, and every night, as I and my fellow entourage of nurses, respiratory therapists, and nurse supervisor paused in our tracks, speechless in that stairwell, bowed our heads, our hearts throbbing and tears dribbling down our cheeks, as we were finally afforded that debriefing session we longed for … I thank you.
To Sieglinde, whom I befriended and worked alongside for nearly 20 years, who cared for our mutual patients lovingly as if they were her own; who spoke to me in her native German while I spoke to her in my native Macedonian, neither of us understanding each other, yet she smiled, laughed incessantly, while others looked upon us confusingly, and then she hugged me at the tail end of our German-Macedonian conversation; she, who always brightened my day with such conversations … I thank you.
To Jason, who in my 25 years of practicing medicine, performed the most efficient, powerful, and effective chest compressions I have ever witnessed; who always bore the friendliest, jovial smiles; who, no matter how down you were upon yourself, could always light up your world and make you smile … I thank you.
To Amy, who bears the same name as my wife; who possesses the saintly demeanor, the calming presence we all seek and yearn; who protects her patients like the mother hen that she is to her children; who always lent an ear for me to bend in my times of frustration with the medical-industrial complex; who was the first nurse, first friend I confided to that fateful day I learned of my job loss; who cried for me; who promised to keep that secret until I could gather the intestinal fortitude to inform the rest of my ICU family … I thank you.
To Savanna, she who hails from my hometown on the outskirts of Cleveland; who speaks the truth, that which no administrator wants to hear but knows all too well is the truth; she who gives her all, and then some, when caring for, protecting her patients, and even, at times, standing her ground against those chief physicians; she who fought boldly, angrily, fiercely, with all her might, greater than any Mama Grizzly Bear to ever roam this Earth, during the pandemic and beyond; she, who proudly and boldly bore her bandana with the words emblazoned Not Today Satan! during COVID-19, lifting our spirits and souls when we had none; she, who instilled the confidence in me while resuscitating countless patients in the ICU, who single-handedly helped me save more lives than I alone, had she not been by my side … I thank you.
To the original boss lady, you know who you are, who instilled the faith in me; who, despite her sarcasm, expressed the utmost respect, appreciation, and support when I questioned my abilities in our local NICU while caring for some of our most fragile local citizens; she whom I have befriended long ago … I thank you.
To Sara, whom I have worked alongside for 20 years plus; who helped my wife deliver two of our four children; who later helped me deliver one of my two kidney stones (affectionately named George and Fred); who cared for me lovingly, and sarcastically, in pre-op holding area, while I nervously awaited my time; she, whom I befriended long ago when I “set up shop” in our community 25 years prior and, to this day, still remains a friend … I thank you.
To Robert and Tina, who I met long before COVID-19; who transitioned from nurses into nurse practitioners; who, in the depths of Hell during COVID-19, helped care for our community, for us, for each other; who morphed into my brother and sister in arms … I thank you.
To all the countless nurses I have had the privilege and honor to work with for over twenty years at our local hospital; to those nurses in our local ICU who worked alongside me before, during, and after two of the worst years of my career during the COVID-19 pandemic, those for whom I have the greatest admiration and respect as we cared for our community, and each other, while everyone else abandoned us; to my newfound friends and colleagues at my new home hospital who have warmly embraced me, accepted me, and welcomed me with open arms as I enter in the next chapter of my career … I thank you.
To Kathy, especially Kathy, who I first met in early 2000 when I started in my private practice; who cared for one of my most fragile pediatric patients as a home health nurse; who, along with his mother, single-handedly afforded him 20 plus years of a wonderful life when everyone else gave up on him; she, who later worked beside me in the hospital on various units caring for adult patients with the same motherly demeanor she possessed with her pediatric patients; she, who later worked in the ICU with me, who grew even more protective of her critically ill patients; she, who promised that we would never walk out of the hospital alone on our last days of work; she, who retired a few weeks before my last day; she, who that fateful day made sure that I was not alone; she, who walked me to my car that night; she, who hugged me greater than any other hug I had ever received; she, who now in her retired days joins me for breakfast, for coffee, for conversation on a monthly basis while we reminisce about our days in medicine, our patients, our friendship, and our admiration for each other … I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
A photo of Kathy and me, printed with her permission.
To all the nurses everywhere who possess the saintly qualities detailed above, to those I failed to mention, to all those I have worked alongside, and to those I have never met, I tip my hat off to you, I bow to you, I honor you, and I thank you. You are my heroes!
Zoran Naumovski is a hospitalist.
