When I was four years old, I woke up asking my parents why we were going to the hospital. They told me we were going to meet my new baby brother. After some time in the waiting room, I was brought to the hospital room — and there was Beamin. They told me I could hold him if I sat down and put my arms out like they had taught me. I was so excited I hopped in a chair, palms up and ready to go, and immediately almost dropped him. After my dad recovered my brother mid-air, I got another chance. This time, guided by my dad's hovering hands, I held him and looked into the tiny, warm bundle. My brother was certainly cuter than any of my dolls at home. I couldn’t tell there was a thing wrong with him, but there was. Beamin was born with a Ventricular
I was eager to find out what it was like on the other side medicine. What were the doctors and nurses talking about? How did they know so much? Would I ever be able to become one? I volunteered in a variety of departments, however, my favorite was the Post Anesthesia Care Unit (PACU): just me, five nurses, and nine patient beds in an open room. It was the first time I was put in the middle of the fast-paced environment of a hospital. All around me were shouted instructions to let nurses know to start preparing for incoming patients, files and records shuffling in and out, medical staff discussing plans, and people moving quickly but somehow not colliding with each
A family member came back into the ED frantically looking for the man and Dr. Nordt greeted her. Dr. Nordt took his glasses off and said, “Hello, I’m sorry to have to meet you under these circumstances." It solidified for me that at the end of the day, every doctor is someone that has asked why, someone that was once on the other side. He understood that the family had many questions of why, but he was also thinking of his how: how his next steps would impact the patient and their