Skill, care, empathy and compassion: Veteran praises his nurses at Milwaukee VA Medical Center
Editor’s note: Bill Guida, a U.S. Army Veteran, wrote the following testimonial after his recent hospitalization at Milwaukee’s Clement J. Zablocki VA Medical Center. The public affairs office applied light edits for style.
I began feeling ill the day after a long cycling ride, walking our dog in a county park, loading and spreading mulch and compost for gardening. When I woke the next morning, my voice was hoarse, nearly inaudible, my appetite gone. At 71, I chalked it up to overexertion.
But the symptoms worsened: fever, chills and delirious behavior. I consulted with my VA primary physician, Dr. Edward Sarmiento. Given my exposure to deer ticks, he advised me to go to Zablocki. He’d alerted the ER, where I arrived an hour later and eventually was admitted to the Cardiac Care Unit. After four days, lab results confirmed Lyme disease.
My doctors, well aware of that possibility, started me on IV antibiotics to treat for Lyme even before confirmation, aiming to ward off endocarditis and potential neurologic complications.
Though my morale continued to drop each day I was in the hospital, my nurses kept encouraging me as the medicine took effect, pointing out positive changes in my heart rate and blood pressure readings. The fevers soon abated. My voice and appetite improved.
Getting me back on my feet
Over time, Kristen Yohpe, Nicole Paradiso and I shared personal stories about family, friends, food, life. Their support — along with that of 5C colleagues Ruby Ahmann, Brenna Mahoski, Kaitlyn Abelt, Michelle Balena, Robin Dearey, Lisa Viegut, nursing student Gretchen Gerhardy and several nurses’ aides — came to mean so much to me.
They demonstrated unquestionable professionalism, skill, care, empathy and compassion. Their words and actions told me I mattered to them, yes, as a patient, but perhaps more importantly as a person and a military veteran.
They helped restore my confidence, getting me back on my feet relatively quickly, knowing how much I wanted to get back home in time for a concert my wife and I were planning to attend for my birthday.
In 2018, I enrolled in VA healthcare after retiring as a newspaper reporter. This was my second hospitalization at Zablocki, so I already had firsthand experience with the high quality of bedside nursing care.
My earlier stay was due to COVID-19, when safety protocols required patient isolation, medical staff wearing personal protective gear head to toe and limiting their in-room time.
This time, I saw up close the complexities comprising nurses’ responsibilities. How effortless they made it seem, consulting with each other, filling in seamlessly to help out with colleagues’ patients when needed, responding to myriad electronic alerts, reading monitors, recording data, entering reports, keeping doctors abreast of patients’ ups and downs.
The Final Salute
I also had the unexpected privilege of witnessing something beyond the excellent medical care. It’s something performed only at VA and perhaps active-duty military hospitals.
It happened the morning before my discharge as I walked laps around the CCU.
I saw Kristen standing outside my room. She signaled me to stop, then nodded for me to follow her.
Unsure where we were going or why, I turned a corner and found her standing still across the hall from a group of other nurses and medical personnel. All were silent, hands over their hearts, looking down a side hallway I couldn’t see into.
Over the PA, a voice called for “The Final Salute” and named a newly deceased fellow veteran as taps played.
I came to attention, emotions welling, holding my salute. A hospital bed was steered into the main hallway, the deceased vet in repose, outlined beneath a voluminous, gently riffling Stars & Stripes draped nearly to the floor. A nurse and other staff wheeled him slowly away from us toward the elevators and out of sight.
Kristen and the others quietly returned to their duties. Seeing the effect on me, she put her hand gently on my shoulder. “It’s OK,” she said. “Ten minutes before he died, he was laughing. That’s how I’d like everyone to be in their final moments: happy.”
As we walked to my room, she told me, as had Nicole, that “taking care of veterans” was why she loved working at Zablocki.
Thank you all for your dedication, expertise, compassion and the comfort you provide to me, my fellow veterans and our families. You are loved and sincerely appreciated for all you do every day to ensure we’re in good hands.
William ”Bill” Guida
Kenosha, Wis.
U.S. Army, 1973-76