August 2026 Honoree
Hannah Rettinger, RN
It was the start of her 12-hour shift. It was my first time in the Neuro ICU. She drove to work; my hubby arrived by helicopter. It was a normal Sunday for her and the worst day of my life. I often wonder if she knew the impact she would have on my family that day.
My hubby had shot himself in our backyard. I performed compressions until first responders arrived. In the ED, a team of doctors confirmed what I already knew: the damage was too severe. We were quickly moved to the Neuro ICU, where I met Hannah.
I had been separated from him for what felt like an eternity while they got him settled. When I was finally brought to his room, I pulled a chair next to his bed for what would become the longest 26 hours of my life. She asked if I would move to the other side of the bed so she could have better access to her equipment. I hesitated and told her that was the “hard side” to look at. She paused, swallowed hard, understood immediately, and thanked me for advocating for myself. In that moment, I knew she was no ordinary nurse.
I work with nurses every day in my role at a medical device manufacturing company. I know they are intelligent, hardworking, compassionate people who go the extra mile. But what Hannah demonstrated that day was something truly extraordinary.
When decisions about organ donation had to be made, she provided thoughtful clinical context and education, helping me understand what was happening physiologically so I could make an informed decision. When my family arrived, she welcomed them without ever making them feel like they were in the way, even in a room full of equipment and constant activity.
When I was sobbing, holding his hand against my cheek, she worked quietly around me. He had three PIVs in place, and when I asked if one could be removed so I wouldn’t risk causing infiltration as I bent his arm to hold his hand, she understood immediately and accommodated.
When his levels continually fluctuated and that damn alarm beeped every five minutes, she responded swiftly and with precision. The determination in her eyes as she watched the monitor and adjusted care, I knew she was giving him everything she had. When he wasn’t stabilizing, she called in the physician and clearly walked through the many interventions she had already performed. Together, they collaborated on next steps, and she kept me informed throughout, explaining what she was seeing and doing in a way that matched both my level of understanding and my need for answers.
When a procedure was needed, she never lost sight of her role as a teacher. She brought in newer nurses and walked them through it, asking “why” repeatedly to reinforce critical thinking and continuing their education while seamlessly caring for my hubby.
When she took her one and only break, she brought in another nurse and gave an incredibly thorough handoff. It felt like she spent more time ensuring continuity of care than she did actually stepping away.
When I began to lose strength, she comforted me. She listened to my stories. We talked about the lives my hubby would save through organ donation. It felt like we shared a mission: to bring something meaningful out of this tragedy.
When he finally stabilized, she gently asked if she could shave his face while she cleaned the exudate from his wounds. His brother was on his way to say goodbye, and she wanted him to look as good as he could.
When her shift officially ended, she stayed an additional hour to ensure a complete and thoughtful handoff to the next nurse. I sobbed as I hugged her goodbye. She had been with us through the entire night. I trusted her completely.
When my hubby passed, her next shift had just begun. She found me, hugged me, and we cried together. I didn’t want to leave him. She told me how she would clean him, care for him, and stay with him before he was taken downstairs. I wanted to stay, but I was too exhausted. The only reason I could leave was that I knew he wouldn’t be alone. Hannah was there.
How do you properly express gratitude for someone who showed such clinical excellence, compassion, and determination on the worst day of your life? I hope this nomination is one way to thank her and to ensure others know just how extraordinary she is.
I often tell people about my angel in the Neuro ICU, and I suspect her ears must burn from how often her name is spoken with such deep gratitude.
My hubby had shot himself in our backyard. I performed compressions until first responders arrived. In the ED, a team of doctors confirmed what I already knew: the damage was too severe. We were quickly moved to the Neuro ICU, where I met Hannah.
I had been separated from him for what felt like an eternity while they got him settled. When I was finally brought to his room, I pulled a chair next to his bed for what would become the longest 26 hours of my life. She asked if I would move to the other side of the bed so she could have better access to her equipment. I hesitated and told her that was the “hard side” to look at. She paused, swallowed hard, understood immediately, and thanked me for advocating for myself. In that moment, I knew she was no ordinary nurse.
I work with nurses every day in my role at a medical device manufacturing company. I know they are intelligent, hardworking, compassionate people who go the extra mile. But what Hannah demonstrated that day was something truly extraordinary.
When decisions about organ donation had to be made, she provided thoughtful clinical context and education, helping me understand what was happening physiologically so I could make an informed decision. When my family arrived, she welcomed them without ever making them feel like they were in the way, even in a room full of equipment and constant activity.
When I was sobbing, holding his hand against my cheek, she worked quietly around me. He had three PIVs in place, and when I asked if one could be removed so I wouldn’t risk causing infiltration as I bent his arm to hold his hand, she understood immediately and accommodated.
When his levels continually fluctuated and that damn alarm beeped every five minutes, she responded swiftly and with precision. The determination in her eyes as she watched the monitor and adjusted care, I knew she was giving him everything she had. When he wasn’t stabilizing, she called in the physician and clearly walked through the many interventions she had already performed. Together, they collaborated on next steps, and she kept me informed throughout, explaining what she was seeing and doing in a way that matched both my level of understanding and my need for answers.
When a procedure was needed, she never lost sight of her role as a teacher. She brought in newer nurses and walked them through it, asking “why” repeatedly to reinforce critical thinking and continuing their education while seamlessly caring for my hubby.
When she took her one and only break, she brought in another nurse and gave an incredibly thorough handoff. It felt like she spent more time ensuring continuity of care than she did actually stepping away.
When I began to lose strength, she comforted me. She listened to my stories. We talked about the lives my hubby would save through organ donation. It felt like we shared a mission: to bring something meaningful out of this tragedy.
When he finally stabilized, she gently asked if she could shave his face while she cleaned the exudate from his wounds. His brother was on his way to say goodbye, and she wanted him to look as good as he could.
When her shift officially ended, she stayed an additional hour to ensure a complete and thoughtful handoff to the next nurse. I sobbed as I hugged her goodbye. She had been with us through the entire night. I trusted her completely.
When my hubby passed, her next shift had just begun. She found me, hugged me, and we cried together. I didn’t want to leave him. She told me how she would clean him, care for him, and stay with him before he was taken downstairs. I wanted to stay, but I was too exhausted. The only reason I could leave was that I knew he wouldn’t be alone. Hannah was there.
How do you properly express gratitude for someone who showed such clinical excellence, compassion, and determination on the worst day of your life? I hope this nomination is one way to thank her and to ensure others know just how extraordinary she is.
I often tell people about my angel in the Neuro ICU, and I suspect her ears must burn from how often her name is spoken with such deep gratitude.
Thank you, Hannah, for your exceptional compassion, advocacy, and dedication to your patients. You truly make a difference.
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