A tribute to the nurse who remembered my name
As a caregiver, I finally felt seen in a way I desperately craved
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Her name badge looked so common and ordinary; it was a tiny, plastic square attached to the hem of a pocket on her scrubs. But was it really that ordinary?
Ever since my mum was diagnosed with myeloma, I have always accompanied her to see doctors and other medical specialists. In all that time, I must have seen a thousand of these name tags in a thousand clinic hallways, every single one a blur of faces I have long since forgotten. However, the owner of this one wasn’t like the others, because she looked at me — really looked — and asked, “Samuel, how are you doing today?”
She didn’t ask me, “How is your mother?” Or, “Are you the caregiver?” She also didn’t give me the usual glance that passes through me and lands on the patient lying on the bed.
This nurse actually said my name. And for a fleeting moment, I felt seen and no longer invisible.
A little bit of healing
At that moment, time did something odd: It stopped. The beeping monitors faded. The fluorescent lights softened. The unspoken burden of a dozen indescribable fears lifted, if only for a breath.
As I stood there at the nurse’s desk, I realized that no one had asked me that question in months. “How are you doing?” Not as a prelude to an update or a request, but as a human inquiry that was genuine, curious, and real.
Her name badge might have been a small piece of plastic. But what it represented — a moment of being seen — was the most valuable thing I’d been given in a long time.
Here is the contradiction: This nurse was a complete stranger to me. She works in a system that’s built for numbers and efficiency. However, she gave me the recognition I hungered for from my own world.
The nurse knew nothing about my story, the challenges and struggles I face, the guilt I sometimes feel, or my sleepless nights. But she was able to spot me where I stood in the corner of a sickroom. She could see that I wasn’t just clutching my go bag; I was literally holding everything intact with hands that were already beginning to shake.
This nurse couldn’t cure the myeloma my mum suffers from. However, she reminded me that I had an existence beyond it. She reminded me that I was also human and deserve to be seen and recognized. That nurse’s recognition is its own kind of medicine.
For me, her name tag turned out to be an attribute of all the things that any caregiver craves: recognition, not just for my role and all the admin work I do, but as a person. We caregivers want to have our own grief, our own fatigue, our own quiet bravery observed without having to explain.
Sometimes I think about that badge. It reminds me that in order to connect with others, you don’t need grand gestures. Sometimes all that is needed is a name, spoken with care. Sometimes it is a glance, a pause, or a question asked without urgency.
To be seen is healing. It doesn’t provide a cure to your patient’s disease, but it does address the isolation that comes with it.
If you are a caregiver reading this, I want you to know something: I see you. I can see the burden you are carrying, the love that is fueling you, the exhaustion that you are hiding. If no one has asked you today how you are doing, let me be the one to do so.
How are you?
My question is not just a courtesy. Nor is it asked as a prelude. I am asking you this question simply because you exist. And you matter. And your name deserves to be remembered.
Note: Rare Cancer News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Rare Cancer News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to rare cancer.
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