You don’t remember me, but our lives intersected for about half an hour the night of May the fourth.
I was in ICU, coming out of anasthesia, lying on my back scared witless. I was looking around at strange creatures, in strange dress, walking around strange machines. The combination of all this and the surgical trauma had me spooked. No, let’s say terrified.
Somehow you sensed my panic, and came over to talk me down the wall. I remember we talked about my life, our RV adventures and just things. You stayed with me until I was okay. I appreciated that more than you can ever know. The fact that I remembered your name after all I went through should give you an idea of the impression you made.
I know you think you were just doing your job. No! You were being a hero for that thirty minutes, and way beyond. The future years of my life will be forever brightened by that thirty minutes.
Laura, and all of you heroes, don’t ever think you don’t make a difference.