'A NURSE'S GRIEF'

Story ID:	612
Written by:	Bonnie Jarvis-Lowe
Organization:	Retired RN/Freelance Writer and Photographer
Story type:	Story
Location:	Clarenville Newfoundland and Labrador Canada
Year:	2006
Person:	My Special Friend and Colleague, Debbie

‘A NURSE’S GRIEF’

My computer screen became a blur as my eyes filled with tears. I knew that the e-mail in front of me would impact my life forever. It was just a brief message that I never expected. We had been taught as student nurses, many years ago, by a Nursing Instructor that ‘a nurse may grieve, but must do so silently, because others depend on the nurse to be strong’. As a young nurse in the 1970s I held tightly to that rule, but never really understanding why a nurse could not cry too.

I remembered that Instructor on that day seven weeks ago when my tears fell freely, and I could no longer see the message my friend Debbie had sent from Nova Scotia, a province I had lived in for over thirty years. The simple message from Nova Scotia to Newfoundland and Labrador, from a nurse, eight years my junior, a special friend, a courageous woman, a talented comic, a nurse who cared for my son many years ago when he was hospitalized, with a serious illness, shocked me. Her touch was like a mother’s touch, and she loved my son as he loved her. We never forgot those awful days, and spoke of them often.

Now there was a message of four lines on my computer screen. Four lines that summed up my friend Debbie, four lines that told me it hurt her to know how her message would affect me. She knew me well enough to know the crushing blow her news would be to me.

She had simply written, “Bonnie, this is a terrible way to tell you, but I am very sick. My preliminary diagnosis is Pancreatic Cancer. I have lost all hope, and live in a world of pain. I hate to tell you like this but you need to know. Love, Debbie”.

That message came to me May 3, 2006. It left me in a state of sadness and confusion. I needed to do something to help her. After the initial shock I mobilized my network of friends, nurses and mothers, firemen and sales clerks, and anyone I knew well and asked them to send a message occasionally to Debbie, just to let her know that she had support. My contacts came through with a storm of wonderful messages for Debbie. She was amazed that so many people would do this, when in fact they did not even know her except through me.

She mailed me one day after she had received one of my inspirational cards. I could envision her sitting at her desk, thinking of some prank she could pull on me. But I knew those days were over because she was so weak and ill now. Her message was heartfelt, she updated me on her condition and said how grateful we should be to have known each other, grateful for the laughs, the good working relationship, the support we gave each other, and we should thank the Universe for allowing our paths to cross. I noticed she was using past tense. I understood when she went on to say that the abdominal fluid was too great for any more chemotherapy and radiation, she would have no more treatments and was leaving the hospital for the weekend to go to her parent’s home.

Later that day I learned that Debbie was at her parent’s home, planning her funeral, and saying her farewells. Her courage was awe-inspiring as she faced death. She had been told she had one to three weeks to put her affairs in order. She did not tell me, and warned others not to tell me. But she knew they would.

I wrote her a letter, summing up our twenty year friendship, the dreadful time when she lost her son, how fortunate we were to have her care for my son, how pleased I would be when I would realize we were working a shift together, how dependable and kind she was always, and how she had contributed such a new dimension to my life. I reminded her of the Partridgeberries of Newfoundland that she had heard about and wanted to try, berries that I took back to her after a trip home. She was overwhelmed at such a simple act of kindness. I read my letter over and over before I hit ‘SEND’. Somehow I knew it would be my last correspondence with my cherished colleague and friend.

And it was.

Debbie passed away today, July 3, 2006 at 4:30AM, at her parent’s home. She was forty-nine years old. It is exactly two months since she was diagnosed.

My tears fall and my heart aches as I remember Debbie with her boisterous laughter, her practical jokes, her love of nursing, and her whole persona that was unique and sweet. Her life had not been easy, but the last five years had been better, and I hoped her future would be bright. Her tender heart and loving attitude attracted many friends because she was a joy to be with, and a gift in many lives.

I miss her. I loved her, and in spite of the Nursing Instructor’s teaching of long ago, nurses do cry, and now they cry with patients and their families. I think it is a a step in the right direction. It says to the bereaved, “I cared too.”


I am not ashamed that my tears of loss still flow, and I am not hiding the pain of my grief. I grieve tremendously as I recall the goodness of a wonderful nurse who enhanced my life, who overcame obstacles, and had suffered losses and terrible setbacks. I admit it angers me that she is gone. I am not afraid to say I loved her, and cherish the experiences we shared, and I try to take comfort in the fact that her suffering is over.

I will always miss you Debbie. It was with you that I learned that nurses do cry.

Now I cry for you.