Neonatal Intensive Care Unit Nursing by Bria Johnson

Note: This profile was written by a student at Franciscan Missionaries of Our Lady University in 2025. 

It was a gloomy and early Friday morning as I was on my way to the Children’s Hospital with my friend to observe NICU nurses for the day. The outside weather was a significant reason for my anxiety. However, I was already nervous to meet the doctor and the nurse I would be observing. While I was suffocating in my anxiety, my friend was very excited; she tried cheering me up because “we will be in their shoes one day”. When we first got there, we accidentally entered the wrong building, which caused us to start running behind schedule because we were lost. Quickly, we then sped around the hospital to the middle two double sliding doors, with fresh air bursting in our faces. After running inside the building, we went through a metal detector and scanned our IDs to get visitor passes. We then searched the hospital until we found the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit on the 4th floor of the main building. The inside of the building was painted with all sorts of pastels and neon colors, which I believe emphasized it being a children’s hospital. The aroma of the hallways was very fresh, like the scent of baby powder. 

As soon as we entered the NICU building, a lady told us that we had just missed Dr. Mooney and that he was headed back to his office. She turned around and stopped him before entering his office so that he could get us started. Dr. Mooney, in his light blue scrubs, turned around, walked up to us, and said, “Nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Mooney”, along with a very warm handshake. Then I said, “Nice to meet you too, Dr. Mooney, I’m Bria”. I thought to myself how Dr. Mooney was the complete opposite of what I assumed him to be; he was not a stuck-up doctor who treats you like you're in his way; he treated us with much kindness. He then told us that we could put our belongings in his office if we’d like. I eagerly put all my things in the chair in the corner of his office, and even left my phone because I wanted to absorb the full experience. He then walked us down the hall, where there were nurses sitting at desks that were recessed into the wall between every two patient rooms. Almost towards the end of the hall, he stopped and introduced us to Barbara, the RN working in this NICU. After introducing us, he said that Barbara and I should pair up since our names were similar. Barbara was currently charting and sending out messages about her patients since she had no clinical task at the moment. She told me that I could sit beside her and asked me the reason for my observation. I could feel the goosebumps immediately after sitting down because I’m horrible at starting conversations with people I don’t know. I then started to get slight sweats on my palms and around my neck because I was just that nervous. We had a brief conversation just to break the ice. I asked Barbara what she loved about the job, and she explained that the best part of her job was the patient care and being able to see the happy outcomes for her patients. She said that the more tedious part of the job was the charting. Although there are always some cons for every job, she explained that the things she loved outweighed the more difficult parts. Our conversation had gotten more interesting because she gave me a lot of insight into what my experience was going to look like for the day. 

Her only assigned patient for the day, Baby Blue, was in the room directly to the left side of her caved-in desk area. She explained to me that Baby Blue did not have long to live because he has a neurogenetic disorder that is causing his brain to shrink. She referred to Baby Blue as a “ticking time bomb” because “he likes to die” very often, meaning his brain just decides to allow his lungs to stop breathing a few times every shift. She meant no harm with the comments; I believe it to be a coping mechanism to cherish the time she has with the babies. Baby Blue had to be on a ventilator and be fed through feeding tubes as well, considering every time he would lie on his back or sit up straight, his tongue blocked his airway. He also had a naturally open mouth due to his genetic conditions. The mother wanted the medical team to do everything possible whenever he decides to code, which I thought was understandable considering how much love you may obtain with your newborn as a mom. 

After briefly breaking the ice, she began to take me to the room where they stored all the milk supply, syringes, needles, tubes, medicine, and other storage supplies. We discussed many things within her career while she helped another nurse fix something on the breastfeeding machine. She explained how this part of the job, when you have a malfunctioning breastfeeding machine, is the “not so fun part” of the job. Shortly after the malfunction, she took me around the hallway to see all the patients, spending most of the time caring for Baby Blue. Most of the babies in the unit were all on ventilators and had trouble breathing, which is why they had a respiratory therapist monitoring all of them by walking up and down the hallway, checking their respiration. I realized when walking to all the rooms, they all gave me the same feeling. All of the rooms had that fresh air aroma, all were quiet, and all had very dim lighting. When I first walked into Baby Green’s room at the other end of the hall, I felt cozy and comforted by the cool air and dim lighting. Anyone would be able to tell that these babies were well taken care of. Barbara explained to me, with all these huge medical terms that I haven’t even learned yet, about what was wrong with these babies and what their possible outcomes may be. Most were really positive, but as far as Baby Blue, it brought waves of sadness whenever he was brought up. I could tell Barbara felt it too.

We eventually had to go back to her assigned patient’s room, where we spent a lot of time in there. Eventually, my friend had come to join Barbara and me, since she was not enjoying her observation as much with the original nurse she was assigned to. Barbara physically showed us the conditions Baby Blue had. She told us to sanitize our hands and put on gloves to feel the overlapping suture lines on his head. I anticipated that I would not do something right because I was so anxious and excited at the same time. I explained to her how I felt, and she advised me not to try and come into the field trying to be perfect because that is what may mess me up, as far as the medical guidelines of the hospital for nurses. She instructed me to be confident and calm, especially in the NICU or PICU, because it sets the tone for the parents and allows everyone to have a sense of peace. With her guidance, I put on the gloves and rubbed my fingers gently across his soft head, and was able to feel his suture lines and the little fontanelles. The hands-on experience, along with her advice, really lifted my spirits for the day. 

Finally, at the end of the day, we still sat in Baby Blue’s room while they switched the tube on his IV and fed him through another tube. Barbara laid him on her chest and rocked him back and forth and said, “Aww, my love”. After a short period of time, there was an alarm that sounded, which sent me into a slight panic, but she told us there was no need to worry because not every alarm means something is bad, and that Baby Blue is just fine. In that moment, Barbara seemed nurturing and at peace. It seemed as if she belonged exactly where she was, being a part of something beyond herself and loving another beyond their health. Holding on to something she knows will be lost showed me her absolute love for her career. Her dedication and compassion for Baby Blue were truly inspiring and uplifting. 

After more time in the patient's room, Barbara became really passionate about guiding us in the right direction after graduating from nursing school. She explained that she used to float around the hospital, trying to get as much experience as possible so that she could be prepared for whatever came at her. Even though she said that nursing school does not prepare you for the job, she said that it gives you a “snapshot” of what your career may look like. We asked her what are some of the challenges she faces and how does she overcome them. Barbara explained how child neglect was one of the hardest challenges. She has witnessed many patients with drug addict moms, which causes the babies who are born to be addicted to drugs. This makes it difficult for the healthcare team to “wean” them off the drugs because they do not want to function without them. She explained how some people adopt those children, and she truly honors those people because it is something really difficult to deal with for a baby or a child. She also explained how you have to be prepared when seeing babies and children who are abused and neglected, because it is important not to focus on anger, but to focus on the love and care that the child deserves to have their entire life. 

Previously, Barbara worked in the mortgage department for the state before pursuing nursing in her late 30s. She earned her Associate's Degree in Nursing at Delgado Charity Community College School of Nursing and later returned to receive her Bachelor’s of Science in Nursing. She pursued her career this way because it was the easiest and most convenient way for her to pursue her path while caring for her children. Barbara has been a nurse for about 10 years now, after graduating from her BSN program at the age of 37. She was floated among many specialties within the hospitals where she worked, including the emergency room for both children and adults, the pediatric intensive care unit, the medical-surgical unit, and the neonatal intensive care unit. From all of those experiences, she has enjoyed the children the most, specifically, as I’ve observed, because of their innocence. She sees them in vulnerable situations and is always willing to help in any way she can. Before pursuing her nursing career, Barbara witnessed a car accident between an 18-year-old girl and another unidentified car. She saw how scared the girl looked and willingly got out of her car to help comfort her until the police and ambulance arrived at the scene. Barbara thought to herself about how rude the other drivers were, honking and trying to quickly ease their way through traffic to get away from the accident. In that moment, she said, “I wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself,” exemplifying the empathy and care she had for the girl. As well as the past experiences that motivated her into this career, she also called herself an “adrenaline junkie” and explained that she loved to have something to do, considering that the hospital has new problems and solutions every day. 

As the day went by, Dr. Mooney had walked past Baby Blue’s room and said, “Ya’ll are just still soaking it all in, huh?” and we just laughed, even though we began to feel sleepy, but were so mesmerized by the baby’s cuteness. My friend and I headed out of the room and thanked Barbara for letting us observe her and for all of her wisdom. In the back of my mind that night before bed, I wish I had told Barbara how special she was and how I truly saw how selfless she was to these vulnerable patients. Barbara showed that her career is not just her daily obligation, but is an inspiration to prove that vocation is defined by a balance of skilled work, emotional resilience, and being personally committed to patient care.

A Day in the Life on the Cardio ICU by E.S.

  Note: This post was written by a student at Franciscan Missionaries of Our Lady University in fall 2021.

    As I got through all the traffic of New Orleans, I saw the big blue and green sign, “Touro LCMC Heath”. The building didn’t really look like a hospital. It looked like all the other beautiful, historical buildings in New Orleans. It was 8 p.m. and probably around 40° outside. I parked in the parking garage and got out of the car in the frigid cold. I was slightly nervous but still excited to learn about what goes on in there. As I walked into the hospital, I was a little disappointed that the hospital wasn’t very much warmer than it was outside. I had been in there before, but I wasn’t familiar with everything in this huge hospital. The interior didn’t really look like a hospital either. There was a lot of wood and art on the walls, and it almost reminded me of a hotel. I walked to the elevators and moved up to the eighth floor. My excitement was getting the best of me, so I quickly composed myself in the elevator to appear more professional to Jas’s coworkers.

    As I stepped out the elevator, I saw a waiting room and some double doors with a doorbell. I assumed that that’s where Jas was. I rang the doorbell and told a woman who had a sweet, soft voice that I was there to shadow Jasmine. She told me to wait a minute while she consulted with Jas and then came back on the speaker and told me to stand back so that the doors could open. As I walked through the doors, to my surprise the unit was even colder than the rest of the hospital. I walked down this hallway that had the most beautiful paintings on the walls. I recognized them, as they were paintings from a very well-known artist in New Orleans, Terrance Osborne. They were colorful paintings of houses in the city, perfectly placed throughout the walls. As I looked away from the paintings, I was greeted by a familiar face. “Hey Bitty,” Jas said to me with a huge smile on her face. I saw her in her dark blue scrubs surprisingly not tired for working the night shift. I gave her a hug. I quickly got distracted by the overlapping beeping of what I assumed to be machines in patients' rooms. Jas walked me around the small unit, showed me where the rooms are and where the nurse’s station was. The nurse’s station was a small, u-shaped area with small personal cubby workstations and one larger area with a monitor for the charge nurse. The nurse’s station was peculiar to me with a deep yellow color and white trim. One part of me assumed that all the areas of the hospital would be blue. 

Jas works on the cardiovascular ICU at Touro. This is the floor of the hospital for patients who are right out of cardiac surgery or complications and are recovering. Jas told me with a smile on her face that she needed to do her rounds and there was a patient that she wanted me to meet. I followed her out of the nurse’s stations through the halls, into a patient’s room. “ROOM 809” is what the door read. As I walked into the room, the first thing I saw was all the city lights. I was so mesmerized. My gaze was interrupted by a voice. “That’s my favorite thing about this hospital,” said a very deep, but almost fragile voice. I turned around and saw an older man. His eyes were puffy almost as if he had been crying. As I was looking at this man, Jas was taking his blood pressure with an automatic cuff. I watched as it squeezed his arm and then released. I looked at Jas’s face as she saw the blood pressure and put it in the computer. “This is Mr. T, my favorite patient of all time,” Jas said as she looked at him with a smile. Mr. T and I chuckled. He was hugging a heart pillow and had so many red and white wires all over his chest. His chuckle made him start coughing and Jas’s face changed. She rubbed his back and was comforting him, knowing that the coughs caused him pain. Jas has always been a comforting person. As a teenager, she helped her mother take care of her grandmother when she fell sick. As a child, she never really wanted to be a nurse, but after seeing how much good care of patients helps them, she knew that nursing was her calling. After Mr. T stopped coughing, she gave him some pain medicine to help with his chest pain through his IV. She took the top off the medicine and inserted it into his IV and pushed the medicine through it. Mr. T winced but assured me he was alright after he saw my eyes widen. Jas and I told Mr. T goodnight and stepped out of his room. Jas took off her gloves and we both used hand sanitizer. 

We walked back into the hallway and Jas sat in her small station. She got on her computer and started charting about Mr. T’s vitals, blood pressure and the medicine that she gave him. As I was watching her, I heard some commotion and I turned around to see a patient on a hospital bed being rolled into a room. Another nurse in the same color scrubs came to Jas. “We need you to do the admit babe,” she said with a smile to Jas. Jas smiled and stood up, put her computer on a stand and rolled her stand into the room. She signaled for me to follow her. Jas introduced herself and me with a sweet soft voice and asked if it was alright if I observed their admit onto the floor. The patient was in a lot of pain and really couldn’t answer. Jas and the other nurse in the room decided that I should probably go sit with one of the other nurses in the nurses’ station. I sat with a nurse whose name was Ms. Tammy and she was so sweet to me. She told me that she’s never worked with a nurse as young but also so experienced like Jas. Jas started working at this hospital 2 years ago. She loves her job, but her real passion is working with women’s health. Jas had a baby in her first year of nursing school and got through and graduated with wonderful grades. She wants nothing more than to help mothers during their pregnancy journey, but she is content where she is right now. As I looked back up through the glass door, I saw Jas so concentrated on getting all the information from her new patient. She then took her vitals, got the patient the heart pillow they give to all patients on their floor, and then told the patient's husband something. She walked out of the room, she took her gloves off and used hand sanitizer. I sat next to Jas again and watched her type on her computer again. Before I knew it, it was time to go. I gave Jas a hug and thanked her so much for the opportunity.

         I walked back through those double doors and into the elevator, back out the door and into my car. As I got into my car, I thought about my day and realized something. Just because you aren’t in the exact job that you dream of, you can still be happy. I firmly believe that Jas will follow her vocation in women’s health, but it brings me so much hope to know that even though she’s not in women’s health, she is still so content at her job and with the people she works with. Jas has such an ease to do her job and a passion for doing her job well and that is such an admirable trait. By observing her, I could really tell that she loves what she does and loves the patients that she works with. 

Elementary Teacher

Elementary Teacher
by M.C.

     It was an early overcast Monday morning when I drove to the elementary school where I would conduct my observation and interview. I approached the school’s front door and made my way through the hallways. My destination was classroom 315, Ms. Brocker’s Pre-K class. As I continued through the halls, I was excited and nervous. I could hardly wait to see what the day would hold for me. After I found the classroom, I turned the door handle as my excitement mounted. As I opened the door, a sea of noise flooded my ears. Eighteen preschoolers were seated on a big floor mat saying, “I know! I know!” A woman standing at the front of the classroom looked up at me and gave me a kind smile, introducing herself as Ms. Brocker. She told me I could take a seat, directing me to a round children’s table.

       After taking a seat, my eyes scanned the classroom. Bulletin boards hung on the wall, with one holding a craft the students had constructed of turkeys made from sticks and leaves. Different workplaces, such as a castle reading nook, were scattered throughout the classroom. The classroom rules and dry erase board hung prominently on the front wall. After taking in my surroundings, my eyes were directed to a big checkered floor mat consisting of five rows with six different colored squares in each row. The children were seated on the squares and I soon figured out that each child had their own square to sit on, from the interjections, “Bobby, stay in your square,” or “Sally, move back in your square,” said by the teacher. All eyes were directed towards Ms. Brocker, who stood in front of an easel containing pictures of fall, which she reviewed and taught to her class.

     Once my eyes focused on the teacher and the lesson that was being taught, I could see that she was no newcomer at teaching. She held the attention of her students and when she asked questions was attentive to their responses. When students weren’t listening to a classmate who was talking, she would say, “Listen up. Your classmate is talking.” While she continued to teach the students about fall items, I was struck with the enthusiasm and passion that Ms. Brocker had for teaching. She skillfully corrected the students when they gave wrong answers, encouraged them to try again, and celebrated when they gave correct answers.

     After Ms. Brocker finished teaching about fall items, she energetically introduced the topic of Thanksgiving and asked questions to assess the students’ knowledge of the holiday. She then asked the students what they were thankful for and told them to share their responses with their neighbor. After a few moments, Ms. Brocker told the students to tell her what they shared. During this time, I saw how she gave special attention to the ones who needed it. When a little girl was having trouble expressing what she was thankful for, Ms. Brocker waited patiently and gently encouraged her. While they were telling her what they were thankful for, one student said, “I’m thankful for you, Ms. Brocker!” Instantaneously all the children followed and started saying they were thankful for Ms. Brocker. Smiling, she said thank you and that she was thankful for all of them. One student ran up and gave Ms. Brocker a hug. She said to the student, “Thank you! Y’all know Ms. Brocker loves her hugs!” As she was saying this, the whole class then proceeded to get up to give her hugs. She stopped them, and said, “Thank you, after the morning lesson y’all can give me hugs.”

   Ms. Brocker continued to teach the class about Thanksgiving, then read a book about the holiday. When she finished, Ms. Brocker asked the class if they wanted to plan a Friendsgiving. An uproar of yes’s issued from the students. To have a Friendsgiving, she said, “We need to plan the party.” Ms. Brocker told the students to break into their small groups. As I watched the students plan the party, I saw how talented Ms. Brocker was with children. She was encouraging with the ideas the students thought of and helped them come up with ideas when they were stumped. When a few minutes passed, she told the students to come back and sit on their squares. Then, Ms. Brocker sat in front of the class and went over the plans the students had thought of. She was very positive with the student’s ideas, saying how they were all so good.

    Once she finished going over the plans, Ms. Brocker told the class it was time for recess, which was held inside due to the rain. A student chose a song from Go Noodle, which is a song and dance moves video library. A smile came to my face as the students joyfully and energetically danced along to the video with Ms. Brocker following right along. After the second song had started, Ms. Brocker made her way over to me and asked if I had any questions. I thought of how kind it was of her to ask if I had any questions amidst the busyness of the class.

    Later in the day, Ms. Brocker told me she had always liked children and she used to babysit when she was younger. She went to Southeastern University and while in college, she decided to become a teacher. She had always liked history, so she decided to become a history teacher by graduating in secondary education, focusing on history. With her degree, she taught 7^th grade history, but stopped teaching when she had her own children. After her children grew up and were in college, she decided she wanted to teach again but realized she didn’t want to continue with middle school. She went to LSU to get her master’s in early childhood education. When she received her degree, she said, “I knew in my heart that that is where I was supposed to be.”

    Ms. Brocker was a kindergarten teacher for approximately five years, but when she changed schools, the only position available was pre-k. She decided to take it and as she said, “Loves it!” Ms. Brocker has been a pre-k teacher for ten years. She told me that teaching is very time consuming, “It’s long hours, it’s lots of prep, it takes a lot of your personal time away… but it’s a tradeoff and in your heart if you love it, you love it.” When asked what some of the beauties of teaching are, she said, “Seeing those aha moments.” She told me, “It’s amazing what those little minds can take in.”

      Even after she retires, Ms. Brocker still thinks she will have some involvement with children, whether that be with seminars or at her church. She said, “I don’t think you just walk away from a career like this.” Smiling she told me that she might even come back as a teacher’s aide. I could tell from speaking with Ms. Brocker that she really thinks of her job as a calling and I was very grateful to have met her.

     At the end of the day, Ms. Brocker wished me well and told me if I needed anything to let her know. As I walked to my car and drove home, I thought back over the day’s events. Watching Ms. Brocker teach and then talking to her afterwards has shown me that teaching is not only her profession, but as she said, “It’s a passion!” Being a teacher requires sacrifice, but for Ms. Brocker, it is a sacrifice worth making. Ms. Brocker loves what she does, and you can see that by the way she teaches and how she lives out her vocation. 

Physical Therapist Assistant

by Addison Sonnier

It was a grey Saturday morning. I remember the chimes of the door ringing as I pushed it open. I walked onto a rugged carpet and found myself before a smiling woman at the front desk. I courteously told her I was there to see Kimberly Blank, to which she responded: “Of course dear, she’s been expecting you. If you would be so kind as to go to her office you will find her. It is just down the hall, the last door to the left.” I thanked her and made my way to Mrs. Blank’s office. I knocked on the door, not really sure what to expect. I was asked to come in, and I found Mrs. Blank sitting behind her desk, reviewing what appeared to be a patient file. “Good morning, please do have a seat. It’s so wonderful that you could come at this hour. I am just getting ready for the first patient of the day.” For the next few minutes we engaged in casual conversation. I was just working myself to asking some general question about her experiences and about her vocation, but then another knock on the door. The first patient had arrived.


“Hello Martina, it’s so great to see you. Look at you. How is your hand doing, have you experienced any pain or discomfort?” I was surprised by her enthusiasm and the manner in which she managed to make the patient feel comfortable from the very beginning. She smiled from the moment that the patient entered, and she was also able to handle herself with confidence. For the next thirty minutes, Mrs. Blank directed her patient as she carried out a series of exercises with her hand. While doing therapy, she would talk to me directly, letting me know what she was doing and why she was doing. She also spoke to the patient, telling her who I was and why I was there. “This here is a young student who appears to have taken an interest in physical therapy. She is looking forward to becoming a PTA someday, and she is observing what we do in practice. You don’t mind, do you Martha? You’re not shy, are you?” We all chuckled after she said this, and it made for a very light and enjoyable atmosphere.


Throughout the rest of the day, the dynamic was pretty much the same. Between patients, Mrs. Blank asked for a few minutes while she reviewed the records for the patient she expected next. Whenever a new patient walked into the office, she would smile at them, greet them, and introduce me, explaining to all patients why I was there. Different patients completed different types of physical therapy, and every time she would make sure to explain to me what she was doing, why it was necessary, and what the therapy intended to accomplish. I was struck by the fact that no matter how many patients Mrs. Blank met with and treated, she never changed her demeanor or disposition. It was very apparent, to me and to all of her patients, that she was devoted to her profession and that she truly did love what she did.


Towards the end of my observation, there was one patient that stood out. This was a patient who had experienced a major knee fracture and had essentially needed to relearn his stride (after restoring mobility of his knee-joint). When the patient walked in, Mrs. Blank greeted him very much in the same way as she had greeted the previous patients. She immediately ushered him into an adjoining room where I saw there was a bed, cones, a medicine ball, and other equipment. She helped the patient lie down on the bed and told him to get comfortable for a minute while she set up the cones for the session. She helped the patient stretch his leg and bend both legs; she took careful notes and measurements of the degree of rotation, and she always had reassuring and encouraging comments for the patient, such as: “You’re doing great,” or “Wonderful, you will be back to your own self in no time.” After doing this, she helped the patient to the cones and he completed a series of circuit exercises, including toe taps. After completing the exercises, she helped the patient on to a table and applied heat on the knee. Finally, they went back to the office, where she updated the patient while updating his record in the computer.


I was struck by this patient because it was clear that she made an extra effort to be supportive and motivate the patient. This was the therapy session that made me realize that Mrs. Blank’s true vocation was to be a PTA, and it only made me more curious as to how she came to realize it. I finally had the opportunity after Mrs. Blank walked her last patient out the office door. She came back, smiled at me and stated: “I’m sure there must be some questions you would like to ask me, right? Right, let’s get on with it. Have a seat and we can have a little conversation before you go.” I could not believe it. This woman was probably tired after a long day of work, and she was still in good spirits and willing to stay a few minutes longer at work so that I could ask her questions.


I started off by thanking her for the opportunity and told her that her comments throughout the day had pretty much answered all of the questions I had prepared, except one. “When did you decide that you wanted to become a PTA?” She took her time before responding, and then said, “That is a very good question. I didn’t always want to be a PTA you know? The truth is that when I graduated from high school I was not sure about what I wanted to do with my life. The only thing I knew for sure was that I wanted to travel, and it suddenly hit me that I could do that by being a flight attendant. I worked as an attendant for two years and it was an amazing experience, but I fell in love, and as they say, the rest is history. I got married and settled in Bossier City, Louisiana. I could no longer commute to and from Dallas and so I needed an alternative to being a flight attendant.” She paused, looked at me, and smiled. She clearly could see my confusion. I asked her how she transitioned from being a flight attendant to something as different as being a PTA. She laughed.


“It’s not really that different, you know? What I most loved about being a flight attendant was not travelling the world. Maybe at first, but it soon became clear to me that what I most loved was making sure people travelled safely and comfortably. I realized I could make a positive difference in people’s lives and this just filled my heart. I was 27 years old when I became a PTA and have been doing it ever since. I love it and if I could go back I would choose the same career path. Not everything is money, you know? There are better and greater things in life, such as love, family, and helping others.”


Mrs. Blank walked me to the front door; she hugged me and wished me all the best. As I made my way back home I realized she was the embodiment of vocation. This was a woman that was completely dedicated to her work and her patients. She loved everything about being a PTA, and this was truly inspiring to see. This woman was devoted to making other people’s lives better, and her life choices allowed her to do this by administering physical therapy and allowing them to regain their physical mobility. Vocation is love, commitment, and sacrifice, all of which are values Kimberly Blank admirably conveyed.

Ultrasound Tech

by Samantha Myers

It was a Saturday afternoon among many, and I slowly made my way to the second floor of Our Lady of The Lake Hospital. The radiology core was my destination as always to observe and learn as much as I can. I come here every Saturday with only a few things in mind: watch, listen, stay out of the way and; if there is time, ask questions. There’s a lot I do not yet know about all the different fields of radiology and what all the different techs do. But Mrs. Kyrie Caster stood out to me. A few weeks had gone by, and I finally had an opportunity to ask if I could shadow her as she worked, and she obliged. The following Saturday was the day, and I happened to be nervous. I did not want to be in the way as Mrs. Caster worked her way around her "office."

I walked into Ultrasound 1, and the room was dark with a little golden light shining in the corner. The bed was made up for the next patient that was to come in to have images taken by Mrs. Caster. She was the only tech that morning, and somehow her ultrasound rooms were not cold like the rest of the hospital. When I walked into her ultrasound rooms, it felt warm and inviting. It didn't feel as sterile like the rest of the hospital. I could see that she went the extra mile to help her patients relax while in her care. Mrs. Caster was sitting at the computer looking over her list of patients that needed to be taken care of and welcomed me with a big smile and asked me if I was ready. I nodded, and she got up and said, “Let’s get started!” and off we went to the patient transport room.

We walked into the patient transport room as she greeted the clerk and commenced to having a conversation about lunch and told the clerk, "You will never get my dumplings!" Kyrie is apparently serious about the dumplings. I laughed internally, understanding the importance of specific foods myself. They laughed with each other and Kyrie said to let her know when her patients arrived via transport and then said bye to the clerk, and we walked back to Ultrasound to be greeted by the transporter who had the patient that would change everything about how I saw Kyrie.

She wheeled the big bed into the small room through the small door frame. She said, “the beds keep getting bigger and wider, but the doors are never adjusted so you better make sure their hands are not on the side bars.” She then asked the patient what her name was and the usual questions that need to be asked for verification purposes. Kyrie had the biggest smile on her face and asked the girl if I could join them, and she said "sure."  She began the procedure while talking to the patient, asking, "So, how are you feeling today?" The girl responded with, "I am doing ok actually." Kyrie said "Do you have any pain?" The woman said, "No, not really. My boyfriend said something didn't feel right so here I am." Kyrie was able to take the photos while keeping a smile on the woman's face the entire time. I was amazed at how funny and quick Kyrie was and how easy it was for her to keep the conversation flowing.

Little did the woman know, Kyrie found something on those images. After the exam she kindly wheeled the patient to the patient transport room, and we walked back to the ultrasound department for Mrs. Caster to work on the report for the radiologist. I asked her if the girl would be alright, and she told me that she hoped so, but she told me, "that's not my job, ya know to read them, the scans. I can still see them (the scans), and I know. But I can’t say anything because it’s not my job. I try harder to be nicer to them because they do not even realize at that moment what's going to have to happen next. And that's the hard part." I asked her what does she do when she sees a scan that she sees something bad. She said, "I go in that room over there (the small office or walk through to Ultrasound 1 and 2) and I shut the door, and I cry. I cry for them and pray for them because that's all I can do." She said, "I'm not a nurse, and I do not want to be, I am right where I need to be and these patients are the reason I come to work every day, and I don't always get patients that something is wrong and for that I am grateful." She said, "sometimes I get angry when the patient tells me through my questioning process for my report that the lump has been there six-plus months. I want to ask why did you wait so long but I smile as if everything is just fine because I have to.” Kyrie does everything she can to cause the patient to have less discomfort even while scanning and after.

Mrs. Kyrie Caster did not always want to be an ultrasound tech. She wanted to be a photographer when she was twelve years old. She knew early on, and I quote, “I sucked at it.” She said that the only way to go into photography to develop film in Mississippi was to go through journalism school, and she said that it wasn’t for her. So instead she left school and started working at a doctor’s office for her family OB/GYN as a receptionist. Many family members and friends kept telling Kyrie that she would find her perfect job in the medical field. But she knew that nursing just wasn’t for her. With working for the OB/GYN clinic, she had found her itch but had to see exactly where that itch was. The doctor had an ultrasound tech that came in three times a week, and she was able to observe but was still skeptical. She tried medical billing and coding and realized that too was not for her. She needed to be around patients. She decided to go back to school because the doctor said she would pay for books and tuition. She quit her doctor's office job and cleaned houses on the side while raising her son as her husband lived out of state for work. It took Kyrie six years to finish her degree. That showed me her real dedication to her craft. She researched ultrasound and wanted to make sure that she could grow in the field. She then transferred to Baton Rouge Community College to get into the ultrasound tech program and to live again with her husband.

The first day of class she said, "What did I get myself into?" But little did she know at the time she had started her vocation. She through that training would find her itch. She also said, "I wanted to take pictures of people when I was younger from the outside, and now I just get to take pictures of people but from the inside."

Ultrasonography is a difficult field to work in, but it can have many rewards not only for you as the tech but also for the patient. Take Mrs. Kyrie Caster, for instance; she knows exactly how challenging and rewarding it can be. Mrs. Caster has been an ultrasonographer or ultrasound tech for two and a half years and understands that ultrasounds can be an essential key to successful patient care. I am glad that I could meet and then shadow her and that I will not soon forget. I hope that I have as much love and compassion in my soul as Kyrie Caster when caring for my patients. "Even if you are not with a patient long, every second you are with them matters." Even though Mrs. Caster has not been working in the field very long, she has made an impact on several of people that surround her to include her patients. Even though being an ultrasound tech can be difficult emotionally for Mrs. Caster she said, “There is absolutely nowhere else I would rather be!”

Pediatric Intensive Care Unit Nurse

by Macy Roy

Note: The post was written by an Our Lady of the Lake College student in fall 2016.

As the transparent sliding doors opened in front of me, I took a step onto the freshly waxed floor. I looked above me in search for the Pediatrics Unit, and I saw scrubs of many different colors pacing from one area to another. When I found the pediatrics sign, I stood before the elevator as the orange light brightened before me at elevator D. The elevator doors opened, and I headed up to the fourth floor. I picked up the black “assistance needed” phone hanging on the wall, and I heard a lady answer, “Pediatric intensive care unit?” I replied, “Hi, I am here to see Audrey to do an observation.” “Visiting hours are over ma’am.” I answered, “Oh ok...?” Chattering began in the background of the phone. Worried that I was no longer able to do my observation, she told me that I was in the right place and apologized. The white locked doors slowly opened, and I saw Audrey waving at me. With a smile on my face I hung up the phone, and I approached Audrey to give her a hug. “Hey!” After a few minutes of welcomes and hellos, I followed her footsteps to the next destination. I looked to my right, and I saw a sweet baby with thick blue tubes and thin white tubes surrounding his entire body. His body was undistinguishable to my vision, because his 5-month-old body was fighting from a traumatic gunshot in the chest. I began to break down inside, and told myself I am unable to handle this. However, my heart reassured me that I was able. Audrey and I approached her desk with a clipboard and an orange ink pen sitting in front of a Lenovo desktop screen. I took a seat in a blue and black rolling chair, while Audrey finished her charting for the two little girls she had seen that night. A CNA walked over and explained that Heather, one of Audrey's patients, needed a new IV, because her hand was swollen from the previous one. “Poor baby, I will be there as soon as I finish charting!” Audrey poked her lips out in sadness. She rushed to finish her charting, so she could take care of her patient. 

“Are you ready to go meet our first patient?” I was super excited, but also worried that I would get emotional. Confused, I answered yes. Audrey wiped her hand across the Germ-X dispenser, and I followed her same motion. She opened the curtain, and I instantly heard Frozen playing on the TV. As I stepped into the room, I saw a little girl with blonde hair and pink Bratz pajamas tucked into the blankets, holding her respirator against her pale face. Audrey unwrapped the supplies from the packaging and scattered them across the bottom half of the bed. “Ok sweet girl, I am going to clean your arm, and on three stick the needle in.” “Do you know all of the Frozen theme song.” Heather skittishly shook her head up and down. “Will you sing it with me?” “Do you want to build a snowman...” she continued to push the needle deeper under the first layer of Heather's skin. “Aw Heather! You are doing so great, sweet girl.” “You are awesome, sweet girl.” Heather continued to kick a little bit, but showed her bravery at the same time. “All done, sweet girl! You are so awesome Heather!” As I stood there watching the interaction between these two, I noticed that Audrey’s leadership made the pain from the needle tolerable for Heather to take. Heather's face immediately began to brighten, and she cracked a thin smile. “Ok sweet girl, I will be back soon to come check on you darling, ok? Do you need anything?” Heather answered no ma’am in confidence. We made our way out of the room, and Audrey had a big smile on her face. She began to tell me how cute her kiddo is, and she was super excited that she was able to spend the night with her. I could see true joy placed on her smiling face, after helping Heather. Her smile continued until we arrived back at the desk to chart everything accomplished in room 11.  Audrey had submitted the final changes to Heather’s chart, and grabbed the chart for room 13.

“Now we need to go see our other kiddo, Aja.” We followed the same routine, as we did before entering Heather’s room, swiping our hand across the Germ-X dispenser. Audrey opened the curtain to room 13, “My Aja girl, you’re not feeling good?” Audrey frowned in worry and sympathy. Aja’s mom was curled up in a fuzzy LSU blanket on the couch sitting next to the bed. I could see her eyelids lowering, as she could barely hold them open anymore. I realized that sleep became the last thing on the mom’s agenda. Audrey pressed her ID against the drawer to access the medicine needed to ease Aja’s pain. “Ok sweet girl, I am going to put some morphine in your IV, so you can start feeling better.” Aja’s puffy lips began to stick our farther from pain. Audrey wrapped her hand around Aja’s arm and inserted the morphine shot inside the IV. As Audrey pushed the morphine in the IV, she questioned Aja about her baby-doll lying on her pillow next to her. To relieve Aja from focusing on the pain, Audrey asked Aja if her baby-doll had back surgery too. Aja answered, “Yes, and she is hurting too.” Audrey and I both laughed. Then, Audrey motioned to give Aja's baby-doll morphine, while continuing to laugh. That moment seemed to brighten everyone’s day a little bit. It seemed to brighten Audrey's, mine, Aja's, and Aja's mom’s day. She threw the trash in the red bin labeled hazardous, and washed her hands. “Ok my sweet girl, can I get you anything else right now?” Aja shook her head no, but still showed pain in her eyes. Audrey frowned and told Aja to call her if she did not feel any better soon. We opened the curtain and walked out of room 13. Audrey frowned and said, “I hope my kiddo starts feeling better.” “She looks so sad, and it makes me sad too.” I realized that the emotions bottled up inside the children were bottled up inside of Audrey as well. I began to understand why working with children was Audrey’s calling. It was not just because she was good with children, but she genuinely cared about these children’s medical problems. She wanted to fix it properly. Audrey never complained or fussed about serving Aja and Heather.

After we left Aja's room and made it back to the desk, I was able to ask Audrey a few questions. First, I asked Audrey how she has the strength to approach these families and children with bad news. Without hesitation, she responded, “God.” Then she elaborated on her answer by saying, “I find my strengths in God because he brought me here, so I know that this is what I am supposed to do no matter how hard it gets. This job is so rewarding, and the bad moments do not compare to the great ones.” She continued to emphasize on the word “rewarding” as if it had a deeper meaning to her, although I never figured out why. I began to explain why I wanted to be a nurse, and why I felt pediatrics was my calling. In addition, I told her that I have such a giving heart, kind heart, and loving heart just like her. She had an emotional smile on her face. I was confused, because I did not know if she was getting teary-eyed with joy or sadness. She grabbed my hand, stared at me in my eyes, and claimed, “Macy, you are going to be an amazing nurse, I can tell! You are so sweet!” My cheeks began to blush as I thanked her for encouraging me. She began to go on about how she does not see herself working anywhere else. She stated that if she had any other job, she would be miserable. “I am so blessed to be a part of these kiddos lives!”

It was approaching 9 PM, but I still had one more question for her. I asked, “How has nursing changed you?” She hesitated for a minute, but then answered, “It has made me a stronger person; however, it has not changed me.” I kind of laughed, because that was not the answer that I was looking for. I needed a better answer than that. She continued, “The most important thing about being a nurse is staying true to yourself, and not letting bad people and bad moments redefine you. You have to have strength, but you do not have to ignore the positive traits that got you here.” I felt goosebumps form on my freckled arms. My mind was blurred. I had no more questions. Audrey’s response answered it all. Her sweet, loving heart makes her an outstanding nurse. I gathered my notebook, pen, and purse, so I could head out. “I am so glad that you came!” Audrey quickly stood up and spread her arms out, motioning for a hug. I gave her a hug, and found my way back to the white, locked double doors. I pushed the steel bar, and it did not open. “I have to open it ma’am.” The secretary pushed the button, and the doors slid open. I walked out the door, I turned my head back, and I glanced back at the babies. These babies were unable to walk out of the locked double doors that I just walked out of. In that moment, it hit me. I began to cry out in a bitter sweet moment. I felt thankful for being able to walk out of those doors healthy, but I did not want to leave the people that could not. I wiped my tears as I remembered that nurses must be strong, but I also remembered something Audrey said. While I was interviewing Audrey, she said, “We should be strong, but it is ok to cry: I do it all of the time.” I let the tears roll for a few seconds, then I developed a sense of joy. I confidently walked out of Our Lady of the Lake Hospital with my head held high and truly inspired.

Audrey could not have demonstrated vocation in a better way. She was gentle and caring to both of her patients equally. The differences between the two little girls are blurred in Audrey’s eyes. Through her vision, they were both helpless little girls that needed her attention. My observations of her interaction with the little girls demonstrated a true servant’s heart. Witnessing the joy she had in serving these children, I knew being a pediatric nurse was her calling. I could not have asked for a better representative of vocation than Audrey.

Health Educator

           

by Matthew L. Arnett 

Note: This post was written by an Our Lady of the Lake College student in fall 2016.            

 “This class - room is my OR, and these students are my patients.”  The words ring out and resonate in both of my ears as Renee N., an RN of almost 20 years, takes the front of the class.  Students begin to pile in, and she does not hesitate to begin the lesson.  She stands at around five feet two inches tall and has dark hair that reaches for her back but is stopped abruptly by the greed of her shoulders.  “Today class, we have a special visitor” she explains “He is a former student of mine, and he is here to observe me.”  I feel my face get warm and my cheeks brighten as ten pair of eyes, all carrying a wealth of opinions and beliefs behind them, focus on me.  The students’ gazes are quickly interrupted by Mrs. Renee’s authoritative interjection.  She declares in a dominate voice that today they will be continuing their practice of vital signs and CPR.  The students’ mixed expressions are telling of their future intent.  Some smile, and some seem almost disgusted with the thought of CPR.  Mrs. Renee leans over and whispers to me in a hushed voice, “You know a lot has changed since you left my class.  It is no longer called CNA, but it is now considered Pre- Nursing.”  

            Renee N. knew at a young age that she wanted to be a teacher.  She prepared all throughout grade school and had every intention of pursuing her calling with a college degree in education.  That calling was re- directed when she came across a scholarship her junior year that required her to volunteer at a hospital.  She accepted with a smile, content with the reward the scholarship awarded.  She never dreamed she would end up having a complete shift in vocation.  While volunteering, she helped a young boy suffering from a neurodegenerative disease walk for the first time in months.  She was so inspired and in awe at the smile she helped produced, she changed directions, applied to college for pre nursing, and never looked back. 

            As I sit in the corner of the class, I watch all the students congregate around Mrs. Renee.  She urges the students to really focus on this particular skill.  “Learning CPR is one of the most valuable skills you will learn in my class.”  She goes on to explain a story of when she had to use CPR in the Neonatal ICU when she worked at Women’s Hospital.  With the memory burning in her mind, she explains to every student and college observer how without the knowledge of CPR, an infant on her floor would have faced eternity, but through her training and education of the skill, she was able to save the child.  The story is so compelling that I want to shout “Selah,” as though she is David from the Bible, recording a psalm.  I am not the only one who is mesmerized.  I can see it in the faces of her students.  The ones who earlier were not enthused at the thought of repeatedly throwing their weight on a mannequin, seem to have a different glint in their eyes.  They begin to ask questions, and Mrs. Renee answers apprehensively, making sure to maintain the laws of HIPPA. 

            A little while later there is no talking in the class - room except for the occasional yell for the AED, or the command to call an ambulance.  Hearing the sound of mannequins being brought back from the grave at the hands of eager high schoolers, brings me back to my junior year.  I reflect on how inspirational Mrs. Renee’s stories always were and how they inspired me to work harder at the task we were tackling that week.  My thoughts quickly return to reality as Mrs. Renee stands before me.  She asks me how college is going and I explain to her that I really like it, but I miss having her as a teacher.  Before she can ask another question, we are interrupted by a female student with long blond hair and a dense patch of freckles entrenching her nose.  She asks Mrs. Renee if she can move on to practicing vital signs.  With a nod she is excused and blood pressure cuffs begin to be passed around like an offering plate on a Sunday morning.  

            “Who knows why we take vitals?” Mrs. Renee pries. A variety of hands pop up as she scans the room searching for an appropriate candidate to answer. I begin to feel flustered as a memory of a test I almost failed resurfaces like a ship that just won’t sink.  A boy with curly hair blurts out the facts that he studied the night before without her calling on him. “That’s right, and it is important that you all know how to take vitals before we go to clinicals next semester, no matter how long it takes you to master them.”  She nods at me and smiles, referencing her remembrance of my failed attempt to find her pulse a few years back.  My feature in her lesson does not stop there, as she laughingly blurts about how I once had a hard time locating her biracial pulse on a skills exam.  I offer a rebuttal to defend the mishaps of my junior year, but It is no use. The class is amused and I am as well.  It reminds me of the way she used to appeal to me and my classmates.  We were her friends, not just her students.  I smile and leave my pride in the trash, right next to the grade that I had received on the test to which she is referencing. 

            The bell rings and students begin to shift and relocate like fire ants after their pile has been kicked over.  “Remember that we have a test next week.  I love you guys, so be safe this weekend and don’t forget to study!”  The students nod and exit the building with thoughts of the weekend dancing above their heads, drowning out the warnings of a very passionate and concerned Mrs. Renee.  The students have all left and she turns to me.  “So how was it being my shadow for today?” she jokingly says as she smiles.  We begin talking and she commences to interview me on my future plans and career.  I almost forget that I have questions of my own.  She answers intently and seriously and after thanking her profusely, I walk to my truck to head home.  

            Once home, I recall the events of that day and the faces of the class.  To me they are just nameless students, but to Mrs. Renee they are different.  They are her patients and her priority.  After working in the NIC U for more than 13 years, she began to feel like she needed to teach students, to connect with them and give accurate information that only someone who has actually been in the line of duty can give.  She does not see her becoming an instructor as a shift in vocation, but rather an expansion on what she is already called to do.  The hum of a water fountain in the back of the class replaces the hum of a vitals monitor; the sharp pricks of needles are now the sharp tips of pencils, perched and ready to puncture the white staring back at them.  Patients are no longer deprived of an immune system or a body function, but rather lacking vital information.  Through her training, it is her job to resuscitate them through knowledge and lead them to a better understanding of the medical field.  Mrs. Renee is more than a teacher.  She is more than a nurse.  She is a fluid that is needed.  Her vocation saves lives and inspires people like myself to peruse our vocation the way she has pursued hers, whole heartedly and without looking back.