When Taya Dulcich, RN, on 5 East, was around, my ultra-introverted husband, S, would light up because he knew Taya understood him as he faced a sudden, scary cancer diagnosis with little time left to live.

S came to Rex on Tuesday for further testing after blood tests by his doctor showed he had cirrhosis of the liver. This was confounding because S didn’t drink alcohol. The main reason S had contacted his doctor was to get a hover lift to get him from bed to wheelchair. S was a very heavy man and had become bedridden for approximately six months due to long-term problems with his feet, legs, and knees. He had been having stomach problems, but he had a lifelong avoidance of doctors, and S self-prescribed a change of diet to chicken and bland foods, thinking maybe he had fatty liver disease, which is what the internet suggested.

In the Emergency Department, after a CT, S learned he had innumerable tumors on his liver. Cancer. More investigation was needed to find the primary source. He was admitted and taken to 5 East, where he was treated with utmost care and respect by the entire 5 East staff of nurses and aides who cared for him.

Within that crowd of excellence, there was an even more remarkable person. Nurse Taya. Whenever Taya came into the room, she focused on him with warmth and enthusiasm, her eyes purposely meeting and holding his. A smile would spread across S’s face. He enjoyed joking with her and all the other nurses, aides, and bed drivers, making light of this situation and connecting with people.

We knew a serious cancer was present, but we didn't have many details. When we were done that first night, we cried together. Then S said he hoped I wouldn't cry in the coming days when I'm with him. S also didn't want people to tell him they were sorry and be sad about it because he didn't want them to be sad. I knew his spirits would be brought down by the visible grief. He was an ultra-introvert, and inwardly, I knew he was devastated, and so was I, but hiding my grief and him hiding his grief meant he and I couldn't really discuss the cancer. He was processing his feelings internally. Taya told us she had been an oncology nurse for many years. She told S with such an amazingly caring face and sweet voice that she understood what he was going through. As an ultra-introvert, S rarely expressed anything unless it was positivity.

In a really special time during these difficult days, Taya came into the room, and he joked around, making light of the situation as usual. She paused to really connect with him, especially his eyes, and told him, "I know you are making light of this because you want people to feel good and not to worry about you, but I know what's going on in your mind. I want you to know I'm here for you, and I understand."

Taya did that V shape move with her fingers pressing to her eyes and then pointing to S’s eyes. Like in a war movie, which by the way he often watched, where the leader silently does the V thing signaling to the other soldiers. Taya said, "I see you." And S was so visibly comforted by her words and her calm, caring presence.

It has been devastatingly hard for me to write these memories of my husband, my love S. The confusing and shocking time when the doctor said he was not candidate for treatment, and he might live a few more months and hospice would be meeting us at home the next day.

For several minutes before his departure the next day, his last day at Rex, I am so grateful to remember how S’s room filled with staff members from 5 East. Then S saw that Taya was back on duty. He was so happy to see her. He lifted his head from his pillow toward her, and as she spoke so sweetly and soothingly, his face lit up with such joy! I’ll never forget this, and I'm still touched to tears, remembering that S knew without a doubt that Taya understood how it was for him without him needing to say it, and she cared.

S passed away at home.

I recognize Taya for her exceptional care, compassion, and knowledge. And for the heartfelt, comforting connection she forged with S. Taya made a profound difference, and I appreciate it from the bottom of my heart.

Thank you, Taya!