What Makes a Nurse Unforgettable—and Why It Matters Now More Than Ever
By Cindy Finch, LCSW
Most nurses are incredible. They’re compassionate, capable, and deeply human—even in settings where compassion is hard to come by. But over time, I’ve noticed something: there are two kinds of nurses—those who nurse from the heart, and those who seem to have clocked out emotionally, even if they’re still on the floor. It’s not about good versus bad. It’s about being seen, felt, and treated with dignity during one of life’s most vulnerable moments.
And let’s be honest—some of that emotional clock-out isn’t personal. It’s burnout. It’s short staffing, impossible workloads, moral injury, and hospitals running leaner than ever. Still, there’s something unforgettable about a nurse who finds a way to show up with presence.
What Heart-Centered Nurses Do Differently
They bring warmth when the room goes cold.
I once had a surgical nurse who saw me trembling as they rolled me into the OR. Without missing a beat, he grabbed my hand and said, “There’s no need to worry—we’ll do the worrying for you.” I exhaled. That one line grounded me.
Later, that same OR nurse walked out and handed my underwear to my husband Darin with the confidence of someone returning a dry cleaning ticket. We still laugh about that moment—how he made the awkward feel okay.
They connect with your people.
The best nurses don’t just care for you—they care about your people. One nurse memorized my kids’ names and took time to chat with my husband. Those little gestures built trust when everything else felt uncertain.
They use touch like medicine.
After open-heart surgery, I wept when I saw the incision across my chest. A nurse came in, said nothing, and rubbed my back as I cried. She didn’t need to fix me. She just stayed. That changed everything.
Another time, after being moved to a shared room with someone who had attempted suicide and was placed in four-point restraints, I hadn’t slept a wink. The next nurse came in that afternoon, gently washed my body with warm water, and helped me feel human again.
They advocate like your life depends on it—because sometimes it does.
During a life-threatening episode, three doctors stood frozen at my bedside. One nurse sprang into action—messy, fast, and fierce. She cried with me as she worked. That woman saved my life. I’ll never forget her.
They bring levity into the heaviness.
One night in the ER, a nurse sat with me for hours while we waited for a specialist. When I asked how they coped with these grueling overnight shifts, he deadpanned, “Oh, we drink a lot after work.” My family burst into laughter. It didn’t solve everything, but it reminded us we were still human.
They follow you home.
Okay, not literally—but their care does. A nurse named Margie once called me on a Saturday after I’d flown 2,000 miles home just to make sure my husband and I were okay. She didn’t have to. She just cared.
Another nurse gave us his personal number so we could let him know how we were doing. Who does that? Someone who cares beyond protocol.
They bridge divides.
Some of the best nurses I’ve had were also the ones bridging cultural gaps—offering care across language barriers, racial differences, and class divides. That kind of care is quiet heroism.
And Then There Are the Others
Some are just trying to survive the shift.
Not every nurse has the capacity to give more. Some are burned out, underpaid, and running on fumes. Still, there are a few who cross the line—from detached to dismissive. Like the nurse who shamed me for being in pain after surgery. I delayed asking for help. That delay cost me an extra day in the hospital.
Some overshare or overstep.
I’ve met a few nurses who, instead of supporting me, offloaded their own struggles while I was barely able to sit upright. A nurse isn’t your patient, and you shouldn’t be theirs.
Some don’t listen—and it hurts.
I once told a nurse my IV was painful. She brushed me off. Hours later, red streaks crept up my arm—early signs of infection. The night nurse caught it and resolved it. Listening saved me again.
A Word About Traveling and Float Nurses
Not all traveling or float nurses are distant, but some are understandably disconnected. They’re often thrown into new environments with little time to build rapport. That doesn’t make them bad—it just means their model doesn’t always allow for the kind of connection that makes a patient feel safe. That said, I’ve also met float nurses who bring fresh energy and compassion to every floor. So if one walks in and feels present, consider yourself lucky.
What To Do If Your Nurse Isn’t the Right Fit
Speak to the charge nurse. They're in charge of managing daily staff and can often address the issue quickly.
Ask for the nurse manager. If your concerns aren’t resolved, escalate respectfully.
Call patient affairs. This team exists to advocate for you.
And Finally, Say Thank You
If you’ve had a heart-centered nurse—even once—tell them. Your gratitude might be the balm they didn’t know they needed. A rising tide lifts all ships, and your words can echo further than you know.
And if you want to do more than say thank you—advocate. Support fair pay. Speak up for safe nurse-to-patient ratios. Donate to organizations that help nurses heal, too.
So to the nurses who handed Darin my underwear like it was no big deal, who gave me a sponge bath when I could barely sit up, who called from 2,000 miles away just to check in, who held my hand while I cried, and who showed up when the doctors stood frozen:
Thank you.
You didn’t just do your job. You made me feel human again.
With love and awe,
Cindy Finch, LCSW
