If you ever have the misfortune of landing in an ICU, pray it’s the medical ICU on the 7th floor of Good Samaritan Hospital in Cincinnati. That’s where I met Christianah, a young nurse from Nigeria, who cared for me during her twelve-hour shifts with a mix of skill, patience, and kindness I’ll never forget.
We got to know each other quickly—my teasing and lighthearted flirting became part of our routine. One day, I mentioned that my hair felt filthy, my scalp itchy with dandruff. She left the room, and I assumed she’d gone to tend her other patient. In this ICU, each nurse had only two patients, so I figured she was busy.
Twenty minutes later, she returned—not empty-handed, but with an armful of supplies. With her help, I sat up in a chair. She slipped a shampoo cap over my head, cold at first, and began scrubbing my scalp with vigor. It felt wonderful. When I shivered, she warmed me with a washcloth, gently wiping my face, the corners of my eyes, even behind my ears. She shaved me carefully, though not too close, afraid of cutting me. Then she repeated it all with fresh cloths, before helping me back into bed and cleansing the rest of me with sanitation wipes. By the end, I felt like a new man, finally able to rest.
Later, we watched an old Jimmy Stewart and Doris Day movie together. When Doris began singing Que Sera, Sera, I told Christianah it was one of my favorite songs. She downloaded it to my phone. And before her shift ended, she came back, and the two of us sang it together. Her voice was beautiful.
Christianah—and her colleague Paige, who shared the shifts—gave me more than medical care. They gave me dignity, comfort, and companionship. For that, I thank them with all my heart. I will never forget them.