OR ME, BECOMING A NURSE was not a choice, but a God-given mission and repayment of an old debt.

I was 21 years old and expecting a baby when my young husband became ill. He was diagnosed with cancer four months before our daughter was born. I spent much of that year in a large hospital, far from my family. At one point, my newborn daughter was sent to stay with my family in Arkansas, some 300 miles away, so that I could remain by her father’s bedside.

Through all my husband’s tests, diagnosis, treatments, surgery, a car accident, the birth of my daughter, a hurricane and, eventually, Ronny’s untimely death, one group of people was my lifeline…the nurses who cared for us. They tended to my husband tirelessly, answered my questions (and admitted when they did not know the answer), brought me pillows, made sure I ate properly, allowed us to visit with our daughter by “bending” the rules, encouraged me in the middle of long, lonely nights and, finally, sat with me until my family arrived after my husband’s death.

When I was faced with having to earn a living and raise my daughter alone, I knew what I had to do. For almost 20 years now, each time I hold a newborn, comfort a crying child or their family, explain a treatment or procedure, or hold the hand of someone who is dying, I’m reminded of those who did the same thing for me. I try to remember always that the smallest act of kindness can make a difference in a life. So what it means to me to be a nurse is to have the chance every day to touch someone’s life for just a moment…or forever.

Mitzi Ammons, RN
Magnolia Hospital
Magnolia, Arkansas