On Tuesday, I was driving to work when I called my mom. The moment she answered, I knew something was wrong. She was yelling in pain and telling me that her abdominal pain had significantly worsened since Friday. Given her history of autoimmune disease, I was immediately concerned about a flare. I turned my car around, picked her up, and took her to the emergency department at The Ohio State University Wexner Medical Center for imaging.

She was roomed in the emergency department observation unit, where we met our nurse, Natalie Brehm. From the very beginning, Natalie was attentive, kind, and present. She consistently checked in to see if we needed anything, quickly placed an IV, and ensured my mom received pain medication promptly. At that point, we expected a fairly routine visit, assuming her rheumatologist would weigh in and guide a treatment plan.

Everything changed when the CT scan results came back.

The scan showed suspected ovarian cancer with spread into the peritoneal wall of her abdomen, near her liver, and along her colon. As a nurse myself, when I heard the words “ovarian cancer,” my mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario. My lip began to quiver, my hands were shaking, and I was barely holding myself together for my mom.

Natalie noticed immediately.

Without hesitation, she came into the room to check on us. She brought tissues for our tears and water without being asked. She continued to check in throughout the rest of her shift, always reading the room perfectly. At one point, she made eye contact with me, and I knew she could see that I was barely holding it together. She did not overstep, but she also did not disappear. It takes extraordinary skill to know how to be fully present without overwhelming a patient or their family, and Natalie demonstrated that skill effortlessly.

Right before shift change, Natalie came in to say goodbye. She looked at my mom and said, “The fight starts today, and you can do this.” She then asked if she could give my mom a hug. Not all nurses are comfortable hugging patients, but Natalie gave her the biggest, tightest hug. My mom later told me it was the best hug she had received in a very long time. She truly believes Natalie was the nurse God sent to her that day and refers to her as her guardian angel.

After the hug, Natalie told us we could walk together to the cafeteria to grab dinner before it closed and that our new nurse would be there when we returned. When we came back to the room, there was a gift bag sitting on my mom’s bed from the hospital gift shop. Inside was a card with a heartfelt message, a guardian angel pin, a cookie, and a bag of chips.

This act of kindness was completely unexpected and went far beyond anything we could have imagined. It was not about buying a gift. It was about anticipating our needs on the worst day of our lives. It was about recognizing fear, grief, and shock, and responding with compassion. It was about giving a patient a hug when she desperately needed one. It was about walking alongside us at the beginning of a terrifying journey and making us feel less alone.

It was also about the small but meaningful details. Natalie wrote her name on the whiteboard, so my mom knew who was caring for her. No other nurse that day did that, but it mattered to my mom. It made her feel seen and cared for.

Natalie Brehm did not just provide excellent clinical care. She provided humanity, empathy, and comfort at a moment when our world was turned upside down. She embodied everything the DAISY Award represents. My mom will never forget her, and neither will I.

Natalie truly was our guardian angel.