Last night I took my youngest son to the GMH ER. Sunday night, it got extremely busy. My son had a fever I could not get to break, so to the ER we went.

Back story, my oldest had a febrile seizure when he was 11 months old. All glory to God that we were at GMH ER when it happened. Like any mother, the trauma of that night haunts me every time a fever hits our home.

Once we finally got into a room, his temperature was 103.1, rising from when we got it checked in triage. We waited, I prayed, even held back some tears with every jerk and whimper I heard and felt from my 15-month-old.

We finally got medicine. A gentleman came in with beautiful white hair, and I saw his badge said "Registered Nurse." He gave him the meds, and out he went.

An hour later, the fever dropped. My baby was acting so much better, walking, banging on the chairs, and trying to run out the door. The gentleman came in with a dose of Tylenol.

Exactly an hour later, I asked him about the dose of medication, if it was different since coming to the ER. He responded with no, went over to a paper, tore a paper in half, and explained the weight and dosage. After the discussion, he said I probably didn’t want his chicken scratch on the paper and I responded, " Oh, I absolutely do!

He brought our discharge papers in and asked if I needed anything else, which I said you helped me more than you know. We parted ways, and thankfully, my mother and a good friend work at GMH, and I was able to have them get this appreciation statement where it needs to go and who needs to read it.

 I will never forget his kindness, thank you!