When this little girl was diagnosed with lymphoma – a type of cancer – at just 2 years old, her mum wrote a heartfelt letter to the nurses who care so beautifully for her baby girl.
Texas-based Shelby Skiles’ daughter Sophie has navigated a series of treatments since being diagnosed with a softball-sized tumour in her chest, back in May. Their nightmare began when what Shelby and her husband thought was a simple cough, quickly escalated to something much more serious.
After a chest x-ray and initial asthma misdiagnosis, the cough persisted – and Sophie just kept getting sicker. One terrifying night she stopped breathing altogether and was rushed to hospital, where the tumour was discovered and a more accurate, heartbreaking diagnosis of T-cell lymphoma was made.
The little girl and her family have been under siege – and fighting back – ever since. Sophie’s undergone aggressive chemotherapy, as well as other painful procedures, and dealt with all kinds of physical side-effects in her quest to get better.
“Even though she can’t talk right now, she’s letting us know how she feels with her super expressive eyes,” Shelby told Us Weekly, explaining that Sophie will soon undergo a STEM cell transplant.
Sophie the Brave
Shelby is sharing the family’s difficult journey via her Facebook page, Sophie the Brave, and it was there that she shared a letter to the medical staff that go above and beyond the call of duty, every single day.
It’s a tribute to the difficult work that nurses do and their tireless dedication to doing the job gently and compassionately …
Dear Peds Nurses,
(And incredible nurse techs!)
I see you. I sit on this couch all day long and, I see you. You try so hard to be unnoticed by me and my child. I see your face drop a little when she sees you and cries. You try so many ways to ease her fears and win her over. I see you hesitate to stick her or pull bandaids off. You say ‘No owies’ and ‘I’m sorry’ more times in one day than most people say ‘thank you’.
I see all of those rubber bracelets on your arms and wrapped around your stethoscope, each one for a child that you’ve cared for and loved. I see you carrying arm loads of medicine and supplies into one child’s room all while your phone is ringing in your pocket from the room of another. I see you put on gloves and a mask and try not to make too much noise at night. I see you sorting piles of beads so you can give them to your patient to add to their ever growing milestone necklace. I see you stroke her little bald head and tuck her covers around her tightly. I see you holding the crying mom that got bad news. I see you trying to chart on the computer while holding the baby whose mom can’t-or won’t be at the hospital with her.
You put aside what’s happening in your life for 12 hours straight to care for very sick and sometimes dying children. You go into each room with a smile no matter what’s happening in there. You see Sophie’s name on the schedule and come to check on us even when she isn’t your patient. You call the doctor, blood bank, and pharmacy as many times as necessary to get my child what she needs in a timely manner. You check on me as often as you check on her. You sit and listen to me ramble for 10 minutes even though your phone is buzzing and your to do list is a mile long.
I see you using your phone as a template to paint the perfect cartoon character on the new kid’s window. I see you cheering so enthusiastically for the kid taking laps around the nurses station. I see you with that Nerf gun hiding from the kid around the corner. I see you hold tiny hands, change dirty sheets, translate medical talk for parents, and wipe your eyes coming out of a particularly hard room. I see you put on gloves, masks, and a gown then pause before you hang an IV bag of poison chemo for my kid.
I see you. We all see you. No amount of snack baskets or cards can fully express how appreciated you are. You are Jesus to us every single day. Our children wouldn’t get what they need without you. Moms like me wouldn’t feel sane or heard without you. You save our babies and we couldn’t do this without you.
A mom that sees all you do and loves you dearly for it.
Dear Peds Nurses,(And incredible nurse techs!)I see you. I sit on this couch all day long and, I see you. You try so…
If you’d like to help Sophie and her family, you can check in on their GoFundMe and contribute to the cost of Sophie’s treatment. No donation is too small!