To our nurses here:
I have seen pregnant women feel ashamed in the maternity ward because of their lack of hygiene.
And I have seen nurses wash them gently, trim their nails, comb their hair.
I have heard, in simple but profound words, their gratitude:
“My baby will be born clean, thanks to you.”
I have seen a nurse pretend to be the mother of a woman with Alzheimer’s disease.
On her worst days, the patient would ask forgiveness from that mother she no longer recognized — the mother who was no longer alive.
The nurse told her she forgave her. That she loved her.
And in that suspended moment, I saw an embrace that healed — a deep relief before the final goodbye.
I have seen nursing assistants covered in vomit while holding a child’s head during a seizure, just so he wouldn’t feel alone.
I have seen nurses lift patients twice their size, with strong hands and the gentlest care — to wash them, refresh them, restore a fragment of dignity.
I have seen a nurse cradle a stillborn baby.
She bathed her in warm water, washed her tenderly, arranged her hair, dressed her —
so that the mother, who had asked — with pain and with right — to see her daughter, could say goodbye in peace, in beauty, as if she were only sleeping.
I have seen nurses search for a pastor, a priest, a healer — anything that could bring comfort to a patient according to their faith.
I have seen nurses, in emergency rooms where fear lives daily, run toward danger — rushing to the side of a fainting, infected patient to keep them from hitting their head — even at the risk of their own lives.
And I have seen nurses work double shifts, without rest.
Leaving behind their children, partners, families — because care cannot wait.
Because ethics, duty, love… come first.
If there exists a profession more human, more noble, more sacred than nursing,
forgive my ignorance.
But I do not know it.
Let us honor our nurses.