My husband took our then 8-month-old son to an appointment at Nemours because I couldn't get the time off from work. We had tried to get this appointment for months with no luck, so we were already anxious going into it; my husband more so because he had to do it by himself. I got a call 30 minutes into the appointment that my son had thrown up three consecutive times while waiting to see the provider, and was lethargic. The provider did not feel comfortable seeing him and was recommending a direct admit for observation and testing. I panicked. I was 30 minutes away and had no clue what was going to happen. I remember calling the daycare and telling them I needed to pick my daughter up immediately because there was an emergency, and carrying her out to the car, asleep because, of course, it was nap time, and driving in the rain to LRH. I was afraid that the one time I couldn't be there was the one time that something would happen.

When I arrived at the ED, the providers were all nice and willing to listen; I guess the Nemours provider called over for listlessness, but by the time my husband walked over to the Children's ED, my son was more or less himself. They ran several tests, and when they did the Ultrasound, the tech stepped out of the room and said she needed to speak to the MD. My heart dropped. They came back and explained to us that my son had an intussusception and what the next steps would be. By then, my daughter was restless, and I sent her and my husband home.

We tried the non-invasive measures first and were unsuccessful. When we began to discuss surgical intervention, it felt like everything started moving so fast that I didn't even have time to breathe. Before I knew it, I was alone in the lobby, pacing back and forth, talking to my husband, and trying to keep it together. I don't even know how long it took, but it felt like forever. When they were finished and brought me back to PACU, I was greeted by Katherine, at the side of his crib, smiling. She told me he was doing great, and it was the first time since my husband called me that I felt okay.

For the rest of the time we spent together, she talked me through all of the things she could see in his chart, including his upcoming appointments and what I could expect, which helped ease some of my apprehension. Katherine focused more on my emotional well-being. She spent minutes making me promise her I would stop, take a second for myself, and eat. I don't think I ever really convinced her I would because she left me with a sticky note with her name and extension. She said as soon as we were settled in a room, call her and she will go herself and get me something to eat.

Though she may not have personally been responsible for “fixing” what was wrong with my son, she gave me what I needed to keep going that night. I will never be able to thank her enough. Oh, and I did eat. I walked down by myself, because I didn't want to bother Katherine, and we passed each other in the hallway. She cheered for me. I know this is a long, kind of drawn-out story, but I think it shows the character of this nurse. She was able to provide amazing care for my son and recognized that I needed a little support in that moment. She gave me exactly what I needed. I wish I could thank her again.