My father-in-law came in for open heart surgery, his first nurse in ICU was Marcos Urbina.  He was calm, cool and collected from the beginning.  He answered any question we had without making us feel like we were a bother.  As a first encounter, I couldn't have asked for anything more.

My father-in-law was transferred up to 8th floor shortly after surgery but unexpectedly was transferred back down to ICU a few days later due to unforeseen circumstances.  Again, Marcos was his nurse.  The same person we met who made us feel so comfortable was back, it made a scary situation a little more tolerable.  Even listening to my father-in-law who told him to call him A (his preferred name was T).  But it made my father-in-law laugh every time Marcos addressed him as A and confused any other nurse who was in the room.  

Things started to decline quickly with my father-in-law including re-intubation and dialysis.  Thursday night we got a call that no family would ever want, our loved one had gone into cardiac arrest.  As my husband and I rushed to the hospital we thought about what we should be doing, who we should be calling, we sat next to his bed and listened to everything that was being said, and we were just completely overwhelmed.  We were told that things didn't look good and furthermore, they didn't make sense.  In the midst of this he was taken to the OR, when he returned, I was thrilled to see Marcos again.  He was quickly doing his work, but taking the time to explain what was happening, what meds he was on and why.  Never missing a beat with us or him.  We joked about setting a "goal" for my father-in-law who was sedated, that he needed to wake up and tell Marcos "the nun joke".  Marcos spoke to him like he was a regular patient that was awake, explaining what was happening "T, I am just taking blood."  "Sorry, I know this is uncomfortable." As we all switched in and out of his room, we all had the same experience. But what hit home for me was when I was alone with my father-in-law.  I was supposed to be the level-headed one, the strong one for my husband and family, and I couldn't be.  In that moment, I lost it, I cried, and Marcos finished what he needed to do, pulled up a chair, and sat with me.  He assured me that he was there for us also, and that being strong is tough.  He let me cry and just reassured me that they were doing everything they could.  For him to pull up a chair and sit next to me when he had so many other things he could have been doing was something that I will never forget.  Marcos was right; he wasn't just taking care of my loved one; he took care of me.  After a good cry, I brushed myself off and went back out to the waiting room to be the strong one.

The last day of my father-in-law's life Marcos was there.  Again just being Marcos, explaining all the meds, what they were helping with.  Helping me understand the monitors and what they meant, which numbers we were looking at.  I need you to know that I had other nurses in this timeframe, and they were great, but not like Marcos.  My husband agonized over putting his dad on comfort care; he wasn't ready to let go, especially after he just experienced a major accident where his dad was the one pulling him out of the fear, but he knew it was what he needed to do.  As my husband and I stood at his bedside, again, Marcos came in and talked to us, answered questions about his care, and gave the straightforward answer in a kind, gentle manner, leading my husband to say, "It's time."  Marcos was there as we watched everyone come in and remove the medical devices, Marcos was there to deliver the news that his heart stopped.  Marcos was there to give me a hug when I needed to be pulled back together.  Simply put, Marcos was there.   He didn't have to be, the other nurses answered the questions and moved on, not him, he stayed, he explained, he cared.  GCMC ICU is lucky to have Marcos, and that is why I would like to nominate him for the DAISY Award.