Hands of God

?CIO Unplugged. A blog at the traffic circle of professional, personal,
technical and healthcare. Opinions my own.

“Will I die?” 

My nurse checked my vitals the evening prior to my operation, a surgery to correct a birth defect. Even at eight years old, I was acutely aware of the possibility of going asleep and not waking up. 

I’ll never forget what happened after I voiced my fear. Sitting on my bed, the nurse drew me close and wrapped her arms around me. “Little boys don’t die,” she whispered. Nurse Beata’s verbal medicine soothed my anxiety. I woke the next morning confident and excited about getting a new ear. 

Nurse Practitioner Pinkerton shed a tear of joy and gave my wife a hug when she showed delight upon hearing that we were indeed going to have a baby. As the primary caregiver at the student medical clinic at Colorado State University, Nurse Pinkerton shared that students usually expressed sorrow over an unexpected pregnancy. My wife was the first student that year to be happily pregnant. I was especially pleased that Brandon’s due date was after graduation! 

A few years after our son was born, Talitha entered the world. She spent the first eight days of her life in the NICU. Our precious baby, her life in the balance, was loved on by nurses’ caring hands. Around Talitha’s 20th birthday, we dropped in to say hello and let them see the fruit of their labor. They studied the strong woman that frail baby became. We had a chance to say thank you to the nurses who had watched over her like angels two decades prior. 

When I checked myself into Bon Secours medical tent after crossing the duathlon finish line, I was greeted by a nurse. After the EKG proved our fears, she gave me her personal phone so I could call Simran. Saying goodbye, they strapped me on the gurney. I began to cry. She held my hand.  

Early in my career, I served with nurses in the OR. Oh, the things I witnessed! Hard to express in words. The love. Compassion. Humility. Empathy. The hours and dedication. The passion and tears. The smiles. The joy. The healing. I hated leaving that environment and culture, but my calling lay elsewhere.

As I engage technology, I embrace nursing. I position nurses on my team and I’m proud of all of them, especially those who became CIOs. Three of my directs are nurses. Roughly 25 percent of my teams are certified clinicians of one sort or another. They understand workflow and the culture. You match this education and experience with technology and boom! 

OK, not all of my nurse experiences are positive. My only bad nurse encounter happened when I was 15. While riding my bike to school, I was struck broadside by a truck that pushed my face and body into the asphalt for about five yards. Much of the skin on my face was roughed up. 

An ambulance rushed me to the ER, and the triage nurse gawked at me and winced. That was not a good signal for an insecure teenager in shock. But to his credit, he took good care of me and stopped wincing after painstakingly pulling every bit of gravel out of my face. I forgave him.

My point? I’m thankful for nurses. They don’t win Emmys or Heismans nor Oscars or Tonys. Their trophy is not ego or statue. It runs deeper and across generations. Fearful patients chew them out, yet they extend mercy. They are grace in motion. They sooth worries. They facilitate healing. They hold your hand when you are alone. They make health information technology work. 

One last thing, something we rarely acknowledge. They put their lives and health at risk for us. 

Hands of God.