A Patient’s Tribute to Her Nurse: Winner of the 2007 Oncology Nursing Excellence Award
Vikki Wagner, an oncology nurse at Miami Valley Hospital in Dayton, Ohio, received Caring4Cancer’s 2007 Oncology Nursing Excellence Award for her exceptional patient care. She was nominated by Judy A. Johnson of Yellow Springs, Ohio, an ovarian cancer survivor. The following is Judy’s nominating letter.
Vikki Wagner exemplifies creative and compassionate nursing. In addition to being a nurse, Vikki was also trained in massage and Reiki, abilities she brings into the chemo infusion room. When I had a sensitivity reaction to a crucial antinausea drug that gave me a sledgehammer headache, she soothed the pain with touch. She also used her intuition, suggesting a cool cloth at the site of my IV to ease the pain of the shot.
Vikki was the only nurse assigned to four of us in chemo, though other nurses floated in and out to help, and I often did not see her sit down until after lunch. She checked on each of us even after our IVs were flowing, discerning by our faces, postures, and sighs whether we were all right, trying to make us more comfortable.
My oncologist had been encouraging about my prognosis, but one afternoon early in treatment, I realized that every other woman in the room was back for a second or third round of treatment. They were chatting easily, comparing notes about the amount of time they’d been in remission, grateful for “three good years” or casual about this being the third round. For the first time I had to face the reality that there are no guarantees and I, too, might be back. Vikki saw my pale face and asked if I were all right. I lied and said I had to go to the bathroom; indeed, one glance in the mirror confirmed that I looked terrible.
When I came back out, Vikki connected the dots. She pulled the curtain around my chair and came close, reminding me that everyone’s cancer is different and that I’d been doing very well. My eyes were full of tears and my drip was nearly finished; she promised to get me out of there, away from the conversation, and she did. That week, as every week, she gave me a big hug as I left.
I’ve just finished my chemotherapy. When I think about my treatment, I see Vikki as an “improv” artist or a ballerina, responding to whatever her patients need on any given day, moving gracefully among our recliners to dance with us and our IV poles. I’m grateful for her grace and humor, which made a difficult season of life much easier to bear.