I have a lot of respect for nurses. And not just because my sister is one.
When my dad was diagnosed with cancer, I eventually moved in with him to care for him. I prepared meals. Cleaned house and did laundry. Cleaned wound sites and emptied drains. I helped him to the bathroom. Gave him sponge baths. I did what I could to make him comfortable.
I did all this because I loved him.
Nurses, on the other hand, may not know their patients. But they know that their patients depend on them.
They not only take care of their patient's needs, but those of the patient's families. They answer questions. Calm worries. Provide hope.
They work long hours, mostly on their feet. They sacrifice nights, weekends and holidays with their own families to care for someone else.
And then there's those who nurse the terminally ill. I think there's a special place in heaven for them.
My dad had some of the best nurses in his last days. They were compassionate. They listened to him and to us. They let us know what to expect and how to plan for the end. And when the end came, they held our hands and dried our tears.
Yes, I have a lot of respect for nurses. God bless you all for everything you do!