When you are 36 years old and a single mother of a beautiful, smart 10 year old girl and you are told you have a subarachnoid hemorrhage, your life gets clearer and foggier than ever before. Clearer because you really know what is important and what isn't. Foggier because you don't know what your future will bring, if it comes at all. Having lost my own mother at 13 to cancer I was in a panic and terrified. Johnna was for me, the light in that darkness. We instantly hit it off, because we both had a sense of humor and loved to laugh. She treated me like a long-lost friend, not a patient who was just passing through. Her laughter and smile made a weeklong stay in the hospital feel survivable. I commend all the nurses on this floor who see and hear what they do every day and still start their 1-hour shift with a friendly hello. I commend all these wonderful ladies and men who endure the verbal and physical assault from scared family and patients and have the strength and courage to go into the next room with yet another smile.