Our family's experience with the unit began on April 1 as Dad underwent coronary bypass surgery. Dad had significant surgery with 9 grafts, as well as a Maze procedure for his atrial fibrillation. One of the miracles is that Dad had experienced no heart attack or heart damage leading up to the bypass surgery, despite the 9 blockages. There was an unfortunate and rare complication of the surgery however, in that Dad experienced a minor stroke during the bypass. Fortunately, the stroke only affected his left peripheral vision, with no evident compromise of his physical abilities, speech or cognition. Dad was a very lucky and blessed man, as his surgeon, doctors and nurses were telling him, but none so much as giving us all the hope, compassion, and comfort as that expressed by one of his exemplary nurses, Susan Terry.

You see, one of us stayed with Dad 24/7, so we were able to experience the demeanor of each and every one of his nurses, both day and night. Dad was in the ICU for a total of 6 days (and then 2 more weeks as an inpatient), and we know now that he was fortunate to have Susan as his day nurse for more than half of his days in ICU.

From our first interactions with Susan, we could tell she was very special. Just as Susan had finished her debrief with the night nurse and started her day shift, I approached Dad's room and was greeted by Susan in the hallway. She introduced herself. Susan had not even gone into Dad's room or met him yet, as she asked me, "So how are you and your brother and sister doing? How are you all holding up through all of this? And what can I do to help you?" I was almost speechless that the nurse would ask how we were doing through all of this, as the focus was on Dad. Of course, we had been awake for more than 48 hours straight, feeling anxious and worried about Dad, as we camped out in the ICU waiting room with other families. We were mentally and physically exhausted, and Susan knew it. Her sincerity, concern and compassion for us, Dad's children, was unlike any that we had experienced, and far exceeded anything we expected. We knew at that moment that she was extraordinary.

Susan next asked, me: "Tell me about your Dad: Does he work? Retired? Hobbies? I'd like to know more about him." Wow! I thought. Who cares enough to ask these types of questions about the patient in ICU? It can only be a sensitive and genuinely caring nurse who wants to make a connection to the patient as she helps him look forward with optimism through the upcoming weeks of treatments, recovery, and therapy. So I told Susan all about Dad, his hobbies, his active lifestyle, his creativity, and also how we had just lost our precious Mom less than a year ago, and God-willing, that we were not ready to lose our Dad, too. Susan listened very carefully, not taking any written notes, but from her subsequent interactions with Dad, she obviously did not miss a beat.

The next three days in ICU with Susan were a blessing for all of us. She made an instant connection with Dad, asking him all about his hobbies, his work, his friends and family. There was not one detail that we had given her that she failed to discuss with Dad, and these interactions helped seal the basis for his positive attitude and recovery possibilities. In fact, there were times when it seemed like Dad and she had known each other for years. Susan's ability to connect with patients and their families in an optimistic way is astounding. And although Dad's other nurses were very good, not one asked the type of questions nor made similar connections as did Susan. She went above-and-beyond. In one word, Susan displayed Hope.

And as Dad says: "Whether or not Susan is chosen for this award, we want her to know that she is already a real DAISY in our book!" Our family trusts that you already know of the tremendous asset you have in Susan.