My father spent decades of his life in and out of the hospital; needless to say, it was not his favorite place. When he was transferred to SNU in attempts to go home, his condition declined rapidly. It was clear that things were not going to get better for him. Gwen called me to tell me his condition; I could hear in her voice that she was concerned for him and this was not just another phone call on a list of things to do on her shift. She was thorough in her explanation and I drove 13 hours overnight to be by my dad's side.
I arrived at 8 am on Friday. By 8:45 am, Dad was asleep and would only wake again a handful of times; we put him on hospice by 2 pm that afternoon. I was on zero sleep, I had a million thoughts rushing through my mind, and there was Gwen, going out of her way to bring me Starbucks coffee, holding Dad's hand, and telling me the words I desperately needed to hear: "You are doing great; you are a wonderful daughter."
For the next 3 and a half days, Gwen would return to care for Dad. When Dad passed peacefully on Monday, I was glad that Gwen was the one who was there to be his nurse. As I write this with tears welling up in my eyes, it brings me so much comfort to know that Gwen was the last nurse to care for Dad after a lifetime of hospital visits. Her gentle touch, her obvious compassion, and her kindness went above and beyond our expectations. Dad would have wanted her exalted for her excellent standard of care and her wonderful spirit.