I remember going to my first year of high school feeling hungry, isolated, and afraid. At lunchtime, the smells of the food in the cafeteria were overwhelmingly enticing. It only made my stomach hurt more, knowing I didn't have the money to purchase any food for myself or my unborn child. My parents had employed the tactic of starvation to try to convince me to abort my baby.
I started going to my school nurse during lunch so that I could lie down on one of the cots and avoid the fragrant smells of food. After lunch was over, I'd tell the nurse I felt better and return to class. Once a few days of this had passed, she asked me what was going on.
"You're coming in here every day during lunch, and you seem sad," she said. "It's okay. You can talk to me."
With tears streaming down my face and my head down, I told her the story of coming to a new school and city after child protective services (CPS) intervened in the last city I lived in. I told her how I met my boyfriend, a senior at another local high school, at church and that I was now pregnant. When I told my parents, they became angry and demanded I have an abortion, as I was 15 years old. They forbade me to call my boyfriend and took my bedroom door off the hinges to watch me and make sure I did not try to go to the fridge to eat. They said they were not going to pay to feed my unborn child and me.
I looked up to see that the school nurse also had tears quietly trickling down her face. She reached into her file cabinet and pulled out a sandwich, some toasted peanut butter crackers, and a drink. I had an overwhelming feeling of warmth inside as she said, "Here, this is for you. It was my lunch, but you take it." She then opened her purse and handed me a few dollars for the snack machine and said I could come to her office every day during lunch, and she would feed me.
At that moment, I had something I had not had in a very long time: hope. It gave me hope for the future, hope for my baby, and hope for the goodness in others. I cannot remember her name, what she looked like, her build, or the color of her hair, but what I do remember is the image of her hand reaching into her file cabinet for a sandwich.
That moment influenced me in unimaginable ways. She gave me my first step to safety. She involved CPS, who worked to get me placed in a shelter with resources such as food stamps, Medicaid for medical care, counseling, and the time and stability needed for discernment in reviewing my options carefully before placing my beautiful baby for open adoption. All this gave me the strength I needed to keep going, and the hope that I would survive this. That baby is now a family NP, and I am an NP and nurse educator because of the strength and hope that started with that school nurse. The school nurse taught me it was okay to reach out and ask for help. As I stumbled more than once along my path in the intervening years, those who gave me support at vital moments shaped me into being the nurse I am today. These experiences and the knowledge that timely support and empathy can have such a powerful influence on an individual life motivates me to seek out opportunities to prevent child abuse in the patients and families I encounter as a pediatric NP and in my research.
I learned from that school nurse that it only takes being present and a simple act of compassion for someone to change the course of another person's life. Her act has had a ripple effect that continues to affect the lives of others. She may never know what she truly did, but I hope other school nurses who read this know the influence they can have. Thank you to school nurses for taking care of the children who will one day be our future. Thank you for your selfless acts that make a difference every day.