Christina Davis
June 2025
Christina
Davis
,
RN
Bass Infusion Center
Lucile Packard Children's Hospital Stanford
Palo Alto
,
CA
United States

 

 

 

Tina’s gift is more than her clinical excellence; it’s her ability to see and honor the whole child, not just the medical need at hand.
We had the extraordinary fortune of meeting Tina early in D’s treatment journey at the Bass Center, during the confusing, overwhelming days after her diagnosis. From the start, it was clear that Tina was something special — a true rock star among a sea of wonderful, skilled caregivers. Tina stands out not only for her exceptional clinical skill but for her unwavering kindness, patience, and deep humanity. In a place full of heroes, Tina has become an angel on our path.

Our daughter, D, faces profound sensory challenges, making port access and de-access events especially frightening and overwhelming. A few weeks ago, after a difficult attempt at accessing, D needed to be re-accessed — an event that could have easily unraveled her emotionally. As if called by something divine, Tina appeared, floating into the room like a calming breeze. Without rushing, without judgment, Tina dropped down to D’s eye level and said, “D, I’m on your team, you and me. How do you want to get this done?” There are no wrong answers, no one’s feelings will be hurt, you tell me.” In that moment, Tina restored D’s agency — something that can be particularly challenging for young patients to maintain in the medical world. D immediately brightened and said, “Can you do my access?” Tina listened, nodded, and together, they built a plan, step by step, on D's terms, with D leading the way. Within four minutes — and without a single tear — D was successfully accessed. What could have been a traumatic experience instead became a memory of empowerment, trust, and teamwork. Tina didn’t just complete the task and move on; she stayed, she celebrated D’s bravery, and she told D how proud she was to be on her team. D glowed with pride. Later that night, D whispered to me, “Mama, Tina is so kind, she’s like a superhero.”

The following week, before another access, we spotted Tina in the hallway. Despite being busy, Tina stopped, sat beside D, and reminded her of her strength. Together, they reviewed D’s preferred steps for the day. Tina promised to relay D’s wishes to the accessing team — and sure enough, it worked. D entered her appointment with a calm confidence she hadn’t had before.

And when it came time for a more daunting procedure week — with a de-accessing event that historically triggered anxiety — D asked quietly, “Is Tina here?” Once again, Tina answered the call. She floated in, grounded D, and allowed her the space and support to face another hard moment with bravery. After that procedure, D’s IgG levels fell dangerously low, and we had to schedule an urgent IVIG infusion. It was a high-risk day. D was weak from the effects of methotrexate, having lost 15% of her body weight in just nine days, and hadn’t eaten in five. Her little body was fragile, and the risks of the infusion were serious. Thanks to Tina’s deft and gentle touch, D’s port was accessed without incident to start the infusion. But Tina’s vigilance did not end there — she watched D like a hawk as the infusion began. When D began to have a severe reaction, her eyes were swelling, her throat beginning to close, rickets shaking her small frame. Tina moved with calm, lightning precision, stopping the infusion immediately, pushing rescue medications, and all the while talking D through each step to keep her grounded and safe. Once the crisis passed, and D, now drowsy from Benadryl, needed to be de-accessed, Tina remained steady and soothing. She reconnected with D, gave her space, honored her emotions, and completed the de-access without fanfare, just as D needed.

In the days following that terrifying experience, D spoke often of Tina. She asked repeatedly if Tina would be at the clinic the next time we visited. She even included Tina in her nighttime prayers, asking God to “keep her at Stanford so she can help other scared patients be brave.”

Tina’s gift is more than her clinical excellence; it’s her ability to see and honor the whole child, not just the medical need at hand. She brings dignity, agency, and love into a system that can so easily become mechanical or overwhelming. We are so deeply grateful to have Tina as part of D’s care team. In our family’s story of healing, Tina’s name will forever be written in gold. There is no one more deserving of the DAISY Award than Christina “Tina” D.