A Drop of Rain

I was five years old when I made a major life decision. I wanted to be a nurse. I was fascinated by nurses in their crisp white uniforms, comforting their patients. Florence Nightingale and Clara Barton were my heroes. When asked why I wanted to be a nurse, I answered similar to most of my nurse colleagues, “I want to help people”. In my young mind, I didn’t really know what that meant exactly, holding on to my romantic notions of nurses.

I was determined. My parents had to increase their household budget for toilet paper, as I soaked it in water to make plaster bandages for all my dolls and stuffed animals. Every extremity was bandaged and elevated on pillows, as I medicated them with M&Ms. I even broke up with a high school sweetheart when he had the audacity to tell me I didn’t need to go to nursing school. In my first year of nursing school I learned from my professors that the profession of nursing is considered both an art and a science. Both foundations were to be explored in order to be a good nurse. I made my way through the arduous lab science classes and thrived on the nursing, sociology and psychology courses. It was during this time that I learned that the most important role of a nurse is to serve as an advocate for the person in their care. As I shed the extreme shyness that haunted me throughout my childhood, I found my voice. I had a voice for those who were suffering and vulnerable.

I came to realize the importance of scientific principles and research in treating patients, but it was my presence that mattered most in caring for my patients. How I and my nurse colleagues show up for those in our care alleviates their fear and anxiety and provides dignity when they are most vulnerable. In today’s confusing times, nurses show up for the most vulnerable with the art of our profession: caring with no judgment. Several years ago, I discovered the true meaning of “I want to help people”. I was leading a nurses’ retreat centered around reigniting their purpose in being a nurse. Several former patients were invited to join us on day two of the three-day retreat. One patient began to speak about his nurse, Vanessa. Out of the group of nurses, an excited voice declared, “I am here! It is me, Vanessa!! She came to stand in front of him. In the next moment, in front of a room full of nurses and former patients, he said, “Vanessa, you were like a drop of rain on a dying flower. That is what you meant to me”.

You could hear a collective gasp through the room as eyes filled with tears and the profound and poetic description of what it meant to be a nurse was put into words by someone who was vulnerable and suffering…. A drop of rain on a dying flower.