This nomination was obtained through Lisa's required exemplar for her STAR clinical ladder application. The reviewer of her STAR portfolio was so moved by the story and suggested that it be verified and submitted as a DAISY nomination if vetted. The nominator spoke directly with Lisa and her peers at the time of this event to corroborate its authenticity.

It was just another start of a busy day in the ICU, so I thought. Little did I know that today would have a lasting impact. One great lesson I have learned in my profession is that life is absolutely short, and I do not take it for granted.

On this day in the ICU, I was assigned to a critical gentleman in his 30s who was visiting Louisville on a business trip. He had suffered anaphylaxis from a food allergy. After breakfast, he went to the hotel and started to feel ill. He called his wife, who lived four hours away, and told her he was really sick. He suffered respiratory arrest while talking with his wife. She called the hotel front desk, who in turn called 911. He was brought to Baptist and was on life support, diagnosed with anoxic brain injury. His family was en route.

My patient was a fit, healthy, young man, husband, and father to 3 young children. He was the main provider for his family as his wife was a stay-at-home mom. Some moments never leave your memory. One was the first time I took her to see her husband. He was connected to many tubes, on life support, and unresponsive. She was in shock, devastated, yet had strong religious faith. Her parents were back at her home caring for the children. His parents, siblings, and her best friend were on their way. Until they arrived, she was alone with no support. He was my only patient which allowed me to stay with her until the family arrived. She shared with me about their family. She had so many concerns--would he survive? Would he remember her? Would they ever talk again? Would he ever see his children? Who would take care of paying the bills? She had so many emotions and so much uncertainty.

I had a connection with her from the start and felt as though I had known her for a long time. I was her advocate, her interpreter, and support when many doctors came in to meet and talk with her. I got her meals and a room where she could sleep and shower. I bought her personal supplies she needed and had not had time to pack. As family and friends arrived over the next few days, a new reality was setting in. Life would never be the same for her family.

As time went on, the prospect of a full recovery diminished. She was told it would take months to see how and if he would recover from this brain injury. He had to learn to speak, to walk, to regain the use of his arms, hands, and legs. He was sent to rehab in Louisville, which was 4 hours from his home. It was the closest brain injury rehab facility which was needed to give him the best chance for recovery. She was conflicted. He was helpless to care for himself, and she would eventually have to return home to care for the children. Life continues even when your world stops.

I had formed such a unique relationship with this family. During her absences, I stopped by after work regularly to get him settled in for the night. He always wanted such simple things--water to drink, candy, a fan, his nose scratched, or the TV channel changed. Each night he wanted to speak with his wife, so I made sure to call her before I left. Those calls gave them both comfort. In the beginning, he could not do anything for himself and was dependent on the staff at the facility, who were overworked to say the least. His mind was intact, but he had limited use of his extremities.

Christmas was near & my family knew of my relationship with this wonderful family. They donated money to them to ensure they had a "normal" Christmas. I asked him what he wanted to buy for his family and then shopped for him. It was important, and I was happy doing it.

After nearly a year in rehab, he was sent to a facility closer to his home. Although he had made progress, he still faced many challenges. His family made their home handicap accessible, and he was able to have weekend visits at home.

Fast forward years later. He still resides in a nursing facility, and his wife returned to school, inspired by her husband, and obtained her degree in Physical Therapy. We have kept in touch over the years, although now mainly through Facebook. I have seen their children grow up, go to prom, and they have now celebrated their first grandchild. As I reflect on this story, which I had difficulty condensing, it reminds me of a Jean Watson quote: "Maybe this one moment, with this one person, is the very reason we are here on Earth at this time."