I knew from a young age, nursing was not my calling.
I would faint at the sight of blood and anyone who knows me now, knows this still occurs!
In fact, I get queasy at the “smell” of blood. None the less I knew I wanted to do something that would impact people’s lives, be a difference to someone, make someone smile and care for someone. I started volunteering at what is now Ave Maria Village when I was 14. I became a meal time assistant at 15 and when I was 16, I proudly passed my certified nursing assistant test. I had the pleasure of working with amazing people who took the time to teach me the skills needed. What I didn’t realize was the skills needed to be a “good CNA” did not come from the text books or teachings provided during the CNA course.
One particular resident taught me more in life than I thought any one person could. At the end of each of my shifts I would go lay in her bed and she would talk and talk and talk. I would try and attentively listen. After running around for eight hours, that was difficult at times. I was tired.
She watched me struggle with a different resident so she taught me a few German words to help. She gave me the soundest advice. She said “Sophie’s mom, you do the best you can with your kids every day and the rest you let God do.”
She became my family. I got bites of her stale cookies and shoulder rubs. On occasion, I even got chewed out for a poor choice that I had made. She gave me so much love, and showed me how to love; I couldn’t help but love everyone around me.
I received a phone call in October of 2012 from Jamestown Regional Medical Center, asking me if I would apply for a home health aide position and I did. I got the job, and it was so hard for me to leave the nursing home, to leave my family but my little lady with the soundest advice said, “Who knows? It could be the best decision or the worst decision. But you’ll never know unless you try.”
So I did it and I loved it.
My resident at the nursing home eventually became my patient on hospice. I was happy that I was still able to care for her. Our visits were just the same, filled with love and joy but I could see her getting more tired and less “chatty.” I knew her time would come to join her husband in heaven. I got a phone call from one of our nurses one morning saying she had gone. I immediately left what I was doing and was allowed to go in her room, crawl into bed with her one last time, hold her hand and cry until her family got there. I lied in that bed and thought “How can I do this again? How can I allow myself to love someone knowing they will one day be gone?”
I looked up and in the corner was a picture of Sophie, my little old lady and myself that we had taken six months prior and knew I would do it again, over and over just knowing that my heart was big enough to take it. That I was meant to fall in love in order to provide what my patients need… unconditional love.
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