My wife arrived at Deaconess Memorial Medical Center in Jasper in the early morning hours via an ambulance, transferring her because the local hospital did not have the staff to treat her heart attack. My wife had other comorbidities. She had never been diagnosed with a heart condition.

The staff at Deaconess Memorial quickly stabilized her and treated her as a recent heart attack victim. They moved her into a room in Critical Care until I was able to be with her, and she got some much-needed rest. The next morning, the doctor from Cardiology ultimately decided she would need a cardiac catheterization to determine the next steps for her treatment. A nurse from Critical Care named Stormi explained to me what this would entail and what to expect. She also told me she would need to be intubated and placed on a ventilator. I approved this. The end result was that the cardiologist placed six stents around her heart to improve oxygenation for her damaged heart.

Later that day, after some examinations, it was decided to wait 24 hours before removing the ventilator. She was also still sedated. Stormi was the nurse who, throughout the day, explained what was happening and how she was responding. She also helped us to understand that my wife's heart was in very poor condition.

The next morning, an effort was made to remove the ventilator, but her heart rate and blood pressure immediately began to spike. It was Stormi who took over to adjust my wife's IVs to return them to safe numbers. The removal of the ventilator was put off for another day. Once again, Stormi placed herself near us to both monitor her condition, but also to explain to us what was happening. She told us the next day, she would be off and that Monday, when she returned, she might not be assigned to my wife.

The decision to remove the ventilator was again postponed on Sunday due to unstable numbers. On Monday, Stormi came to our room and said that not only had she asked to be assigned to my wife, but she had spent time on her day off trying to create a better care plan for her. My wife was still sedated, and even though she was able to open her eyes, she did not respond to sounds, sights, or touch. Another attempt to remove the ventilator was discussed, but now she had a low-grade fever, which needed to be addressed. Stormi was once again concentrating on my wife's comfort and treatment.

Tuesday brought a high fever and fast action by the nursing staff. Stormi held us close and kept us calm, too. Stormi even allowed us to pray in her presence, and she even held hands with us. The next morning, Stormi was again the nurse who relieved the overnight staff. I asked her to sit with me while I told her of our wishes. I expressed my fear that it might appear that I was giving up when there might be a miracle. This wonderful woman took my hand and told me that in honoring my wife's wishes, I was not quitting on her. As she put it, I was expressing my love in a most difficult situation in the most loving way.

My wife died in a peaceful, quiet way. There were seven hands on my wife as she passed into the House of the Lord, including one from a loving nurse named Stormi. Near the end of the funeral, a lady unfamiliar to all present except our family stepped forward to take my hand. My children rushed to get one last hug from the angel who guided each of us through our darkest hours and somehow commanded the sun to shine on us as one. In the legend of our family, the one named Stormi will always evoke some tears, oh, but mostly those smiles that can only come from the memory of a heart shared when needed most.