A Tribute to Emergency Room Nurses

You had already worked seven rough hours when the EMS call came in: my 3-week-old son wasn't breathing. ER shifts are unpredictable and chaotic, and I knew you were tired, hungry, and counting down the hours to home. None of that showed when they rolled him in on the stretcher. You were already waiting in the room.

At that moment my son was your son. Your feet didn't ache, your stomach didn't growl. The only person in the world was my baby boy. You worked with precision and skill, taking orders and performing with excellence. Doctors, lab techs, respiratory therapists, and radiology techs filled the bedside. I was pushed aside while everyone worked to figure out what was wrong. But a nurse stayed with me, asking questions, telling me my boy was breathing and okay. I couldn't think. All I could do was sit and stare in fear. There is nothing more frightening for a parent than thinking you've lost a child. You knew that, because you were a parent too.

You kept him breathing, swaddled and warm with his favorite pacifier. You answered every question and came running each time I thought he had stopped breathing again. Once he was comfortable, you moved on to other patients of every age and illness, and gave them the same care you gave my son.

ER nurses rarely get a specific thank-you. They stabilize patients and move them to the next stage of care. But they work the frontline, and they save lives. This one is for you.