Virginia Clarke
March 2026
Virginia
Clarke
,
RN
Neurology Clinic
Massachusetts General Hospital
Boston
,
MA
United States
It was in that moment that I promised myself that if I ever recovered, I would become a nurse too, so I could give others the same compassion Virginia gave me.
I am now a nurse myself, but I would not be here if it weren't for the care Virginia provided me.
Years ago, I walked into Charles River Plaza for a new patient appointment to be evaluated for myasthenia gravis. I was 21 years old, terrified, and exhausted. For seven years, I had lived in and out of hospitals, endured countless ambulance rides and ER visits, and faced life-threatening episodes without answers. I had aspirated so severely that my father once performed the Heimlich to no avail. I had been rushed to the ER in an undiagnosed myasthenic crisis. By that point, I had stopped being afraid of death; it felt inevitable.
That morning, sitting in the waiting room, I sobbed. I was the youngest patient there, dreading the moment my name would be called, afraid of leaving without answers, yet equally afraid of the answers I might get. And then Virginia saw me. She came out, sat beside me, and offered me a blanket. I had no idea who she was or would be for me, but her simple act of compassion is forever ingrained in my memory. She couldn't take away my fear, but she made me feel safe and cared for. It was in that moment that I promised myself that if I ever recovered, I would become a nurse too, so I could give others the same compassion Virginia gave me.
Virginia continued to be that steady presence throughout my care. Navigating a rare and complex neurological disorder was overwhelming, but I always knew I had her as the vital link between my busy physician and me. She was the one I could call when I was scared or confused. She fought tirelessly to get me access to specialty medications through the barriers of COVID and insurance. It is so easy to feel lost as a patient in a big healthcare system like MGH, but Virginia never made me feel like a number. She was my guiding light, and I knew with her I was in good hands.
Today, I am 27 years old, healthy, happy, and a nurse at UPenn. I can say with certainty that I would not be here without Virginia. She is exceptionally skilled, compassionate, and dedicated.
Beyond her individual excellence, I know that Virginia would want me to acknowledge how my story highlights the irreplaceable value of nurses like her in our healthcare system. Patients do not and will not respond to generic responses or faceless processes. I have had several amazing inpatient nurses, but the outpatient nurses are the ones who start to feel like family. There is something inexplicably valuable about having a nurse who knows us, our cases, and can therefore effectively fight for us when we cannot. Virginia is that kind of nurse.
Six years later, I returned to MGH just to thank my care team. I can't put into words what it meant to stand before them and thank them for saving my life. Virginia, you absolutely saved mine. Every ounce of care I now give to my own patients is because of you.
These are the stories that matter. These nurses matter more than you will ever know.
Years ago, I walked into Charles River Plaza for a new patient appointment to be evaluated for myasthenia gravis. I was 21 years old, terrified, and exhausted. For seven years, I had lived in and out of hospitals, endured countless ambulance rides and ER visits, and faced life-threatening episodes without answers. I had aspirated so severely that my father once performed the Heimlich to no avail. I had been rushed to the ER in an undiagnosed myasthenic crisis. By that point, I had stopped being afraid of death; it felt inevitable.
That morning, sitting in the waiting room, I sobbed. I was the youngest patient there, dreading the moment my name would be called, afraid of leaving without answers, yet equally afraid of the answers I might get. And then Virginia saw me. She came out, sat beside me, and offered me a blanket. I had no idea who she was or would be for me, but her simple act of compassion is forever ingrained in my memory. She couldn't take away my fear, but she made me feel safe and cared for. It was in that moment that I promised myself that if I ever recovered, I would become a nurse too, so I could give others the same compassion Virginia gave me.
Virginia continued to be that steady presence throughout my care. Navigating a rare and complex neurological disorder was overwhelming, but I always knew I had her as the vital link between my busy physician and me. She was the one I could call when I was scared or confused. She fought tirelessly to get me access to specialty medications through the barriers of COVID and insurance. It is so easy to feel lost as a patient in a big healthcare system like MGH, but Virginia never made me feel like a number. She was my guiding light, and I knew with her I was in good hands.
Today, I am 27 years old, healthy, happy, and a nurse at UPenn. I can say with certainty that I would not be here without Virginia. She is exceptionally skilled, compassionate, and dedicated.
Beyond her individual excellence, I know that Virginia would want me to acknowledge how my story highlights the irreplaceable value of nurses like her in our healthcare system. Patients do not and will not respond to generic responses or faceless processes. I have had several amazing inpatient nurses, but the outpatient nurses are the ones who start to feel like family. There is something inexplicably valuable about having a nurse who knows us, our cases, and can therefore effectively fight for us when we cannot. Virginia is that kind of nurse.
Six years later, I returned to MGH just to thank my care team. I can't put into words what it meant to stand before them and thank them for saving my life. Virginia, you absolutely saved mine. Every ounce of care I now give to my own patients is because of you.
These are the stories that matter. These nurses matter more than you will ever know.