My toddler-aged daughter, who was born with a spinal cord disorder, has spent more days in the hospital or doctor's office than most kids, whether it was for surgeries, ultrasounds, blood work, x-rays, MRIs, or a battery of other reasons.
Yes, doctors were the ones who performed the complicated surgeries and who swooped in and out of her hospital room for a few minutes a day with herds of interns and all the answers.
But nurses were there for me for the all other stuff, the stuff that doesn't get billed for or taught. It was a nurse who got me extra blankets when I was camped out for days on a fold-out chair next to my daughter's hospital bed. A nurse who rewarded Chloe with a pink pinwheel and strip of princess stickers after an ultrasound. A nurse who dug through her desk drawer to find a tiny white teddy bear for Chloe to take home after getting blood drawn.
It was a nurse who sang "Yellow Submarine" with me in an effort to ease some particularly uncomfortable testing. And nurses who popped into Chloe's hospital room throughout the day, not because she was their patient, but because they heard she was a really cute baby and wanted to say hi. Nurses sent us home from the hospital with stashes of extra supplies and tricks for everything from changing diapers to changing wound dressings.