You were one of the permanent fixtures in my little sister's life. She definitely considered you as part of the family with your constant presence.
When I think of you, I see a magnanimous individual who is highly concerned with the well-being of her patients.
I remember when you were determined to get my sister a Wii, and the blissful expression on your face with her excitement. The memory brought on the previous one of you whispering to me one day telling me about your gift and keeping quiet about it.
You went above and beyond the responsibilities given as a nurse. Giving my mom your personal number and making certain to let her know to call you whenever you wanted, just one of the many great actions you've done.
I remember how you'd get so excited when my mom cooked you spicy Indian food, and how you'd laughingly complain about all the spices in it.
The news of your passing away came as such a shock to me. The irony of it all being that you were a wonderful nurse who remained healthy for most of your life.
The call came in the early morning from my sister's old dietitian, who was attending the funeral. My mom and I were the only ones in the room, while the phone was on the speaker. Once the depressing call was done, we both pondered over how my mom had called her a month earlier to wish her Happy Holidays and received no reply to the message.
It was so upsetting to hear this because the news came around the week of the one year anniversary of my sister's death.
And the one thing I wish I could've let you known, was that not only did I admire you and consider you a role model, but you've inspired my future goals in the medical career.
You made me realize that I didn't want to be the doctor that only sees a person in the hospital when they're sick. Without realizing, you've showed me the amazing feelings of developing relationships with your patients. I want to be able to see that infant grow up to becoming a successful adult, and be there in every step of the process.
I can whole-heatedly say, you've changed me as a person, which is something that is few and far between for me.
Rest In Peace, Lisa.
