Recently, the air in the hospital felt heavy with uncertainty. My dear friend, L, had been transferred to UNC Johnston’s ICU, a move that had promised a higher level of care but had quickly morphed into a whirlwind of worry. As the day slipped into evening it became painfully clear: L’s condition was deteriorating. We learned that she would need to be transported again, this time to Rex for a specific procedure and a med-surg ICU bed.

L’s mom and I sat in the sterile, fluorescent-lit room, our hearts racing with a torrent of unanswered questions. How had L’s health declined so rapidly? The staff had changed multiple times since her arrival, making it difficult to form a connection or fully grasp the details of her care.  We were surrounded by medical jargon and concerned faces, but none offered the comfort we so desperately needed.

Then came Adam, a member of the three-person transport team. He entered with an air of calm confidence that instantly put both of us at ease.  His knowledge was evident, and he spoke with an assertiveness that suggested he had a clear plan. “We’re going to get L to Rex safely,” he assured us, his voice steady and warm.  In that moment he became more than just a transport nurse; he became a beacon of hope in a dark time.

Adam approached L with care and compassion. He coordinated with his team seamlessly, ensuring that the transfer to the stretcher was gentle. He propped her up with pillows and blankets, offering medications for comfort while explaining each step of the plan in simple, reassuring terms. His attentiveness was palatable; it was clear he wasn't just focused on the logistics of the transfer but on making sure L felt safe and cared for.

“Let's make this as easy as possible,” he said, advocating for IV medications instead of oral ones for the ride. “It'll keep you comfortable, L.” His thoughtfulness extended beyond the physical care he provided. He recognized that L’s mom and I needed reassurance too. He took the time to answer our questions; speaking to us with genuine kindness, even managing to lighten the mood with a bit of appropriate timed humor.

As they rolled L onto the stretcher, I could see the care in Adam's eyes. He wasn't just executing his job he was embodying the art and science of nursing. His ability to blend technical skill with compassion was a gift, and it was a comfort to us on such a terrifying day.

By the time they wheeled L away, I felt a flicker of hope amidst the fear. Adam had brought a little light into our dark moment, reminding us that even in the most challenging times, there are people who care deeply. As I glanced back at L, I knew she was in good hands, and I felt an overwhelming gratitude for Adam and his dedication to his work.

In a world that often feels overwhelming, it's moments like these that remind us of the power of compassion and connection. Adam may have been just one nurse in a vast system, but his impact was profound, and for that, we will always be thankful.