A majority of the women in my family are nurses — a profession I both admire and fear. Even though I’m trained in life saving from my years as a lifeguard, I’m actually quite terrified of blood and needles.
Luckily while on duty I never had to care for any visitors who became seriously injured, and beyond the occasional skinned knee, bee sting and water rescue I never had to put my first aid skills to the test.
    To be honest I have never really thought much about nursing at all, even though both of my grandmothers and two aunts have made it their profession. Recently I spent 11 days in Arizona caring for my terminally ill father, and for the first time I realized just how special these people are.
    It was the nurses, first at a rehabilitation center, then at the hospital and finally at Hospice, that allowed my family to relax and take comfort in the fact that my father was being well cared for. And, it helped having two aunts who are nurses around to explain complex medical terms and quiz the doctors on what course of medical treatment they were pursuing.
    Trying to get information out of the doctors who treated my father often proved more difficult than guessing the correct winning numbers for the Arizona Lottery. It was the nurses who spent the time explaining every detail and scenario to us when we didn’t understand what was happening. It was the nurses who tended to my father during the night when he woke up confused, and it was the nurses who kept a watchful eye on him during the day to ensure he was getting the proper care he deserved.
    When a family member becomes sick there is suddenly a bevy of questions and confusion. My family was no different, especially since we are scattered all across the country. Mobilizing in Arizona, where my father has been living for the past two years, was the first challenge, followed by learning the diagnosis and deciding what to do next.
    I have not seen my two aunts in more than 15 years, but the crisis with my dad brought us together and I was able to meet many family members I had previously only seen in pictures.         Between my aunts, my dad’s best friend and his favorite cousin we were able to arrange his affairs, his care and help him to feel at ease during a very disorienting time.
    The people at the Odyssey Hospice in Arizona were particularly wonderful. My father was given a nice room with a patio and tons of natural light. This made it easy for family and friends to drop by even if he was asleep. If a visitor came and my dad was napping they could read on the patio or watch television in the common area until he woke up, and we were given honest and accurate information about his prognosis.
    Odyssey also provides a sleeping area for family who want to spend the night, and though we never needed to use this, it was a comfort to know it was there. From our first moments involved with Hospice, the doctors, nurses and social workers did their best to accommodate our entire family.
    I am happy to report that my father has recovered enough to leave in-patient care and is now living in a step-down facility where the nurses make regular visits to check on his progress. If it wasn’t for the caring staff at Odyssey, I’m not sure any of us would have made it through this.
    My father definitely kept the nurses on their toes, and though he can be quite charming (the family joke is that he can sell a bucket of water to a man in the middle of a lake in a leaky boat) he can also be a handful. But the nurses never treated him with anything less that caring compassion.         My recent experiences have cemented my belief that it takes a special kind of person to be a nurse, and I’m proud to call several of these people family.
— Brandi Neal