It was already midnight and I was walking quickly out of Recovery Room, knowing I had to be back early next morning. Though in a hurry, I noticed a lone woman with an anxious look on her face. As it turned out, her daughter-in-law had just been transferred to Intensive Care, so I decided to take her up there. Down the hall, she stated, “I bet you're trying to leave, aren't you?” I confirmed her observation, adding that it was quite all right. We soon arrived, and upon talking with the patient's nurse, I was able to let her in right away. She turned to me and said, “Thank you, you will be blessed.”

    The next day, on my way home after my day shift, I noticed a voice mail from my sister in Rochester, which gave me an uneasy feeling. I had to pull off the road as I listened to her message; “Mom had a stroke; she's in the hospital and the Neurologist said it doesn't look good.” My mind darted back to the words I had heard the night before as I cried out with anger; “This is a blessing?”

    The following day I flew up to Rochester. My brother picked me up from the airport and we soon arrived at the hospital. I walked into my mom's room and she looked as if I had never seen her before. Her usual bright smile was replaced with a look of emptiness. All at once the cruel reality of the signs and symptoms of a fresh stroke were there, butI wasn't the instructor, I was just a family member.My mom seemed to recognize me, and I fought back tears as I told her how much I loved her.

    Over the next five days, my mom made unexpected progress, as she began to speak a few words, slowly and almost painfully. With each milestone, it seemed the nurses and aides were almost as excited as we were. Everyone, without exception, treated my mom with kindness and compassion. I think the event that will stay in my memory forever occurred on my mom's fourth day. It was time to repeat the swallowing study to assess if my mom could start eating. All four of us siblings hung together in the waiting room, nervous, our eyes shifting constantly to the door of 2607, anticipating and desperately hoping for good news. As her door opened, the therapist came out with a smile; we instantly knew she had good news, and we collectively breathed a sigh of relief. Five days after her stroke, my mom was ready for transfer to a rehabilitation facility, and I was headed back down South. With a very heavy heart, I said goodbye to my mom and the staff from the Stroke Unit.

    On the way back home, I had plenty of time to think about my own experiences as a Recovery Room nurse. I could envision（想象）the smiles on so many of the faces of our patients as they leave our unit. I was also reminded of the fact that we as health care givers have a certain power: we can add to the stress of a patient's hospital experience, or we can be the one ray of sunshine that leaves a smile on their face.

    Truly, there will always be the pain of knowing that my mom had a stroke, but my memories will always be tempered by the thoughtful care she received in the Stroke Unit. I have since reflected on the words of gratitude spoken to me a week earlier by the visitor I took to the ICU. Yes, I was blessed; it was the kind of blessing that will warm my heart forever.