From Pain to Purpose: “We finish our work with excellence.”

This is Vanessa Hill. She's a Hello Monday listener, and she's on her own career journey. A decade ago, she made a radical change.

Every week, I get letters from listeners who've seen themselves reflected in our episodes. And without fail, I learn even more about how careers are changing--and how we all navigate those changes--from these letters.

Vanessa first wrote after Arthur Brooks came on the show. Albert spoke about managing chapters of a career according to your strengths during different life stages. He was in the midst of leaving his role as head of The American Enterprise Institute to become a professor. Albert has so far had three radically different careers--as a classical musician, an academic, and the director of a think tank.

This idea of switching things up entirely in the middle of your life? Lots of people do it. Many listeners wrote to tell me about their own experiences. Vanessa’s story stood out. Partly, it was the heart she brought to her journey. Partly, it was the purpose she discovered along the way. So I asked her if I could share it. Below are excerpts from her letter.

The purpose reveals itself

 It was September 29, 2010 at Sentara Careplex Hospital [in Virginia] in room 329 where my Nana, Merlice Yvonne McIntosh Henderson, was awaiting Medical Transport (MTI) to take her home to hospice. Two weeks earlier she had presented to the ED experiencing discomfort. After emergency surgery, she was diagnosed with stage IV cancer of the uterus. Now she waited in pain for a rainstorm to calm down so she could make it home with the support of the EMTs. 

My family also anticipated my granddaddy’s arrival from the Hampton VA Hospital. Three days before my Nana was admitted to the hospital, Granddaddy had a stroke. My family didn’t tell him about Nana’s health for fear that it would negatively impact his recovery. The plan was to bring them home together so they could see each other for their last moments. MTI picked up Nana, but the other transport company, citing safety concerns, would not bring Granddaddy home. 

Nana arrived safely, late on Wednesday. She died the next morning on September 30. My Granddaddy, died 13 days later. We took them home to Key West to bury them.

The “but why”

During this period, I was in Miami teaching film and serving as Director of a university graduate fine arts department. When I received the news of my Nana’s diagnosis, she got on the phone and made it clear that she wanted me to complete my preparation for my new incoming class and to not travel until after orientation. “We finish our work with excellence,” I recall her saying. And so I got my airline ticket to come to Virginia to see my Nana on Friday, October 1st. I missed her by just one day.

In the year that followed, I descended into a deep grief. I decided to come to Virginia to live with my mother in order to grieve properly...to fall apart. I could not make sense of how Nana could go so quickly. She was a breast cancer survivor, was seeing her primary care and oncologist on a regular basis. As I began my google research, I discovered that uterine cancer exhibits symptoms. Why didn’t anyone notice? Why didn’t Nana say anything?

The “but why” led me to uncover the growing power of advocacy within me. 

Heeding the call

An anonymous friend signed me up to volunteer on the 2012 Presidential campaign. It was at the time that the Supreme Court upheld expanded preventive and reproductive health services for women. I was incredulous because the focus of the coverage was mainly on contraception and reproductive health. The photos in the news consisted of healthy, young women. But what about the more senior women, those who were beyond the reproductive season? Where was the conversation about their continuing care? My questions, passionate interactions and advocacy led me being promoted to a paid a staffer position in the Obama 2012 campaign in Hampton. Through speaking with community and faith-based organizations, retelling Nana’s story and educating citizens regarding issues, particularly healthcare issues, my call to action became clear. Soon I began developing the framework for an advocacy organization to be named Project Nana.

The Learning curve was steep

After the campaign, I was invited to apply for a post in DC advocating on behalf of seniors at one of the Agencies. During my interview process, I took every opportunity to talk about Project Nana and issues related to seasoned women’s health. I wanted to know more to become an expert in order to earn the right to lead Project Nana. While waiting for the position to open up, I contacted The George Washington University (GWU) to express my interest in their medical program. GWU informed me of the prerequisites needed in order to apply to the dual degree PA/MPH program. One of the requirements that I lacked was direct patient care experience. When I asked the best way to acquire the necessary hours, it was suggested that I become an EMT. I heeded that advice and completed my EMT training program and certification. Since I was still in Hampton Roads at the time, it was recommended that I apply to Sentara‘s Medical Transport.

After my first day at Sentara, I wasn’t certain I was cut out for this. I went home and received the call offering me the position in DC. Instinctively I wanted to accept the offer as it would put me in a city that I also lived in before. I would have been comfortable. But instead I chose to remain at Sentara and learn from the grassroots experience. I knew that I had to augment my own limited understanding with the experience that can only come from true immersion.

During my time at MTI, I was humbled with the privilege of caring for other Nanas. I also had an opportunity to finally set foot in room 329. Whether empty or occupied, that room became my fueling station. Periodically I would go into the room and imagine how my nana felt, how my family felt, the memorable and challenging experiences that I only heard about through the anecdotes of my family’s memory. I needed to try to recreate those memories for myself. So going into Room 329 made me to view each patient engagement as though I was taking care of my Nana. I observed everything and asked many questions from a variety of people. Most importantly I developed an ear and an empathy for the patients with whom I was honored to engage. Each personal contact was a master class in how to present information while supporting the dignity of the members of our community. I was privileged to work with amazing EMTs and medics who bridge communication, service and patient care in ways that are invaluable and often overlooked. I also observed the wide spectrum of the quality of care as I participated in routine and critical care transport, in and out of hospitals, dialysis centers, nursing homes, etc.

Dreaming up Project Nana

My time at MTI affirmed that I could use all of my skill sets as an advocate, an educator and a creative to amplify the voices of those who find themselves in the shadows and muted. With this realization I decided to focus on public health and to attend a global virtual program. I graduated in 2018 with my masters from The George Washington University. My thesis further developed Project Nana, now a 501c3 nonprofit, into an evidence based intervention program with the goals of reducing the incidence rates of late stage diagnosis of gynecological cancers and STI/HIV in postmenopausal seasoned women through overcoming communication, cultural, economic and educational barriers. And by no small coincidence, after 3 years, in 2016 I transitioned out of MTI and accepted a position at Sentara Medical Group as the Outreach Program Manager.

I am looking forward to gaining new experiences and to continuing to grow Project Nana. My mission is to not only impact and improve health outcomes, but also to improve the healthcare experiences and quality of lives of others. I never did this for any recognition. This work is my effort to honor my Nana’s command that “we finish our work with excellence” and to fully step into the spirit of Sentara Careplex Room 329. I’m grateful for the chance that Sentara has provided to transform my pain into my purpose.