7-in-7 2018 SUBMISSIONS

Submission TitleHolding the Hope

Short Description (for preview in feed)

One of those opportunities we all encounter to “hold the hope” for another. This one’s long to cover for day 4/5.

NameCourtney Strifler

Featured Image (for preview in feed)Featured Image (for preview in feed)
Full Description

He’d been a patient in our unit for several weeks. No longer able to move anything below his shoulders. Trapped in his own body. Unable to breathe on his own- his lungs ravaged by infection, his breathing muscles weak and wasted. Kidneys unable to filter and concentrate. He was withdrawn, unable to interact, unable to cope with a life turned upside down.

He slowly started responding more. The first time I made him smile, it made my week. It became my goal each day to see his smile. I would come in his room and give him a thumbs up and tell him how happy i was to see him and ask him to show me his thumbs up back. He would put all his effort into rotating his hand, closing his fingers and raising his thumb. He would get about 30% there and I would tell him how proud I was. I would grasp his hand with both of mine and look him in the eyes and tell him- you’re getting better every day.

The second time he was our patient when his skin started to breakdown and open up, I stopped by his room to share our “secret handshake”. I told him, “I want you to know that I think and pray for you all the time. I know this is hard, but I will always be here holding the hope for you. That’s what we do- we hold the hope for you when you can’t do it yourself.”

The third time he was our patient was worse. He hadn’t been interactive at all, laying in the bed, a new complication that left his brain foggy and unable to concentrate. I went by his room after work one day since he was in the other ICU. He looked so weak and distant. I said his name, gave him a thumbs up and smiled at him. He smiled back. His wife said he hadn’t been responsive at all since he’d come back to the hospital. This was the first time he’d smiled in over a week. And it was for me. He knew I was holding the hope for him, rooting for him. My eyes welled up with tears and I just stood there holding his hand. Unable to speak.

I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know if he’s still living. But I will never forget that smile, that one time he told me I was his favorite nurse, that one time I told him that I would hold the hope for him. So many moments with a man who was once a stranger and is now engrained in my mind forever.

Leave a Comment for for

Leave a Comment for Courtney!


Submission TitleHolding the Hope

Short Description (for preview in feed)

One of those opportunities we all encounter to “hold the hope” for another. This one’s long to cover for day 4/5.

NameCourtney Strifler

Featured Image (for preview in feed)Featured Image (for preview in feed)
Full Description

He’d been a patient in our unit for several weeks. No longer able to move anything below his shoulders. Trapped in his own body. Unable to breathe on his own- his lungs ravaged by infection, his breathing muscles weak and wasted. Kidneys unable to filter and concentrate. He was withdrawn, unable to interact, unable to cope with a life turned upside down.

He slowly started responding more. The first time I made him smile, it made my week. It became my goal each day to see his smile. I would come in his room and give him a thumbs up and tell him how happy i was to see him and ask him to show me his thumbs up back. He would put all his effort into rotating his hand, closing his fingers and raising his thumb. He would get about 30% there and I would tell him how proud I was. I would grasp his hand with both of mine and look him in the eyes and tell him- you’re getting better every day.

The second time he was our patient when his skin started to breakdown and open up, I stopped by his room to share our “secret handshake”. I told him, “I want you to know that I think and pray for you all the time. I know this is hard, but I will always be here holding the hope for you. That’s what we do- we hold the hope for you when you can’t do it yourself.”

The third time he was our patient was worse. He hadn’t been interactive at all, laying in the bed, a new complication that left his brain foggy and unable to concentrate. I went by his room after work one day since he was in the other ICU. He looked so weak and distant. I said his name, gave him a thumbs up and smiled at him. He smiled back. His wife said he hadn’t been responsive at all since he’d come back to the hospital. This was the first time he’d smiled in over a week. And it was for me. He knew I was holding the hope for him, rooting for him. My eyes welled up with tears and I just stood there holding his hand. Unable to speak.

I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know if he’s still living. But I will never forget that smile, that one time he told me I was his favorite nurse, that one time I told him that I would hold the hope for him. So many moments with a man who was once a stranger and is now engrained in my mind forever.

Custom Content

Leave a Comment for Courtney!


Submission TitleHolding the Hope

Short Description (for preview in feed)

One of those opportunities we all encounter to “hold the hope” for another. This one’s long to cover for day 4/5.

NameCourtney Strifler

Featured Image (for preview in feed)Featured Image (for preview in feed)
Full Description

He’d been a patient in our unit for several weeks. No longer able to move anything below his shoulders. Trapped in his own body. Unable to breathe on his own- his lungs ravaged by infection, his breathing muscles weak and wasted. Kidneys unable to filter and concentrate. He was withdrawn, unable to interact, unable to cope with a life turned upside down.

He slowly started responding more. The first time I made him smile, it made my week. It became my goal each day to see his smile. I would come in his room and give him a thumbs up and tell him how happy i was to see him and ask him to show me his thumbs up back. He would put all his effort into rotating his hand, closing his fingers and raising his thumb. He would get about 30% there and I would tell him how proud I was. I would grasp his hand with both of mine and look him in the eyes and tell him- you’re getting better every day.

The second time he was our patient when his skin started to breakdown and open up, I stopped by his room to share our “secret handshake”. I told him, “I want you to know that I think and pray for you all the time. I know this is hard, but I will always be here holding the hope for you. That’s what we do- we hold the hope for you when you can’t do it yourself.”

The third time he was our patient was worse. He hadn’t been interactive at all, laying in the bed, a new complication that left his brain foggy and unable to concentrate. I went by his room after work one day since he was in the other ICU. He looked so weak and distant. I said his name, gave him a thumbs up and smiled at him. He smiled back. His wife said he hadn’t been responsive at all since he’d come back to the hospital. This was the first time he’d smiled in over a week. And it was for me. He knew I was holding the hope for him, rooting for him. My eyes welled up with tears and I just stood there holding his hand. Unable to speak.

I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know if he’s still living. But I will never forget that smile, that one time he told me I was his favorite nurse, that one time I told him that I would hold the hope for him. So many moments with a man who was once a stranger and is now engrained in my mind forever.

Custom Content

Leave a Comment for Courtney!


Submission TitleHolding the Hope

Short Description (for preview in feed)

One of those opportunities we all encounter to “hold the hope” for another. This one’s long to cover for day 4/5.

NameCourtney Strifler

Featured Image (for preview in feed)Featured Image (for preview in feed)
Full Description

He’d been a patient in our unit for several weeks. No longer able to move anything below his shoulders. Trapped in his own body. Unable to breathe on his own- his lungs ravaged by infection, his breathing muscles weak and wasted. Kidneys unable to filter and concentrate. He was withdrawn, unable to interact, unable to cope with a life turned upside down.

He slowly started responding more. The first time I made him smile, it made my week. It became my goal each day to see his smile. I would come in his room and give him a thumbs up and tell him how happy i was to see him and ask him to show me his thumbs up back. He would put all his effort into rotating his hand, closing his fingers and raising his thumb. He would get about 30% there and I would tell him how proud I was. I would grasp his hand with both of mine and look him in the eyes and tell him- you’re getting better every day.

The second time he was our patient when his skin started to breakdown and open up, I stopped by his room to share our “secret handshake”. I told him, “I want you to know that I think and pray for you all the time. I know this is hard, but I will always be here holding the hope for you. That’s what we do- we hold the hope for you when you can’t do it yourself.”

The third time he was our patient was worse. He hadn’t been interactive at all, laying in the bed, a new complication that left his brain foggy and unable to concentrate. I went by his room after work one day since he was in the other ICU. He looked so weak and distant. I said his name, gave him a thumbs up and smiled at him. He smiled back. His wife said he hadn’t been responsive at all since he’d come back to the hospital. This was the first time he’d smiled in over a week. And it was for me. He knew I was holding the hope for him, rooting for him. My eyes welled up with tears and I just stood there holding his hand. Unable to speak.

I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know if he’s still living. But I will never forget that smile, that one time he told me I was his favorite nurse, that one time I told him that I would hold the hope for him. So many moments with a man who was once a stranger and is now engrained in my mind forever.

Custom Content

Leave a Comment for Courtney!


Submission TitleHolding the Hope

Short Description (for preview in feed)

One of those opportunities we all encounter to “hold the hope” for another. This one’s long to cover for day 4/5.

NameCourtney Strifler

Featured Image (for preview in feed)Featured Image (for preview in feed)
Full Description

He’d been a patient in our unit for several weeks. No longer able to move anything below his shoulders. Trapped in his own body. Unable to breathe on his own- his lungs ravaged by infection, his breathing muscles weak and wasted. Kidneys unable to filter and concentrate. He was withdrawn, unable to interact, unable to cope with a life turned upside down.

He slowly started responding more. The first time I made him smile, it made my week. It became my goal each day to see his smile. I would come in his room and give him a thumbs up and tell him how happy i was to see him and ask him to show me his thumbs up back. He would put all his effort into rotating his hand, closing his fingers and raising his thumb. He would get about 30% there and I would tell him how proud I was. I would grasp his hand with both of mine and look him in the eyes and tell him- you’re getting better every day.

The second time he was our patient when his skin started to breakdown and open up, I stopped by his room to share our “secret handshake”. I told him, “I want you to know that I think and pray for you all the time. I know this is hard, but I will always be here holding the hope for you. That’s what we do- we hold the hope for you when you can’t do it yourself.”

The third time he was our patient was worse. He hadn’t been interactive at all, laying in the bed, a new complication that left his brain foggy and unable to concentrate. I went by his room after work one day since he was in the other ICU. He looked so weak and distant. I said his name, gave him a thumbs up and smiled at him. He smiled back. His wife said he hadn’t been responsive at all since he’d come back to the hospital. This was the first time he’d smiled in over a week. And it was for me. He knew I was holding the hope for him, rooting for him. My eyes welled up with tears and I just stood there holding his hand. Unable to speak.

I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know if he’s still living. But I will never forget that smile, that one time he told me I was his favorite nurse, that one time I told him that I would hold the hope for him. So many moments with a man who was once a stranger and is now engrained in my mind forever.

Custom Content

Leave a Comment for Courtney!


Submission TitleHolding the Hope

Short Description (for preview in feed)

One of those opportunities we all encounter to “hold the hope” for another. This one’s long to cover for day 4/5.

NameCourtney Strifler

Featured Image (for preview in feed)Featured Image (for preview in feed)
Full Description

He’d been a patient in our unit for several weeks. No longer able to move anything below his shoulders. Trapped in his own body. Unable to breathe on his own- his lungs ravaged by infection, his breathing muscles weak and wasted. Kidneys unable to filter and concentrate. He was withdrawn, unable to interact, unable to cope with a life turned upside down.

He slowly started responding more. The first time I made him smile, it made my week. It became my goal each day to see his smile. I would come in his room and give him a thumbs up and tell him how happy i was to see him and ask him to show me his thumbs up back. He would put all his effort into rotating his hand, closing his fingers and raising his thumb. He would get about 30% there and I would tell him how proud I was. I would grasp his hand with both of mine and look him in the eyes and tell him- you’re getting better every day.

The second time he was our patient when his skin started to breakdown and open up, I stopped by his room to share our “secret handshake”. I told him, “I want you to know that I think and pray for you all the time. I know this is hard, but I will always be here holding the hope for you. That’s what we do- we hold the hope for you when you can’t do it yourself.”

The third time he was our patient was worse. He hadn’t been interactive at all, laying in the bed, a new complication that left his brain foggy and unable to concentrate. I went by his room after work one day since he was in the other ICU. He looked so weak and distant. I said his name, gave him a thumbs up and smiled at him. He smiled back. His wife said he hadn’t been responsive at all since he’d come back to the hospital. This was the first time he’d smiled in over a week. And it was for me. He knew I was holding the hope for him, rooting for him. My eyes welled up with tears and I just stood there holding his hand. Unable to speak.

I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know if he’s still living. But I will never forget that smile, that one time he told me I was his favorite nurse, that one time I told him that I would hold the hope for him. So many moments with a man who was once a stranger and is now engrained in my mind forever.

Custom Content

Leave a Comment for Courtney!


Submission TitleHolding the Hope

Short Description (for preview in feed)

One of those opportunities we all encounter to “hold the hope” for another. This one’s long to cover for day 4/5.

NameCourtney Strifler

Featured Image (for preview in feed)Featured Image (for preview in feed)
Full Description

He’d been a patient in our unit for several weeks. No longer able to move anything below his shoulders. Trapped in his own body. Unable to breathe on his own- his lungs ravaged by infection, his breathing muscles weak and wasted. Kidneys unable to filter and concentrate. He was withdrawn, unable to interact, unable to cope with a life turned upside down.

He slowly started responding more. The first time I made him smile, it made my week. It became my goal each day to see his smile. I would come in his room and give him a thumbs up and tell him how happy i was to see him and ask him to show me his thumbs up back. He would put all his effort into rotating his hand, closing his fingers and raising his thumb. He would get about 30% there and I would tell him how proud I was. I would grasp his hand with both of mine and look him in the eyes and tell him- you’re getting better every day.

The second time he was our patient when his skin started to breakdown and open up, I stopped by his room to share our “secret handshake”. I told him, “I want you to know that I think and pray for you all the time. I know this is hard, but I will always be here holding the hope for you. That’s what we do- we hold the hope for you when you can’t do it yourself.”

The third time he was our patient was worse. He hadn’t been interactive at all, laying in the bed, a new complication that left his brain foggy and unable to concentrate. I went by his room after work one day since he was in the other ICU. He looked so weak and distant. I said his name, gave him a thumbs up and smiled at him. He smiled back. His wife said he hadn’t been responsive at all since he’d come back to the hospital. This was the first time he’d smiled in over a week. And it was for me. He knew I was holding the hope for him, rooting for him. My eyes welled up with tears and I just stood there holding his hand. Unable to speak.

I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know if he’s still living. But I will never forget that smile, that one time he told me I was his favorite nurse, that one time I told him that I would hold the hope for him. So many moments with a man who was once a stranger and is now engrained in my mind forever.

Custom Content

Leave a Comment for Courtney!


Submission TitleHolding the Hope

Short Description (for preview in feed)

One of those opportunities we all encounter to “hold the hope” for another. This one’s long to cover for day 4/5.

NameCourtney Strifler

Featured Image (for preview in feed)Featured Image (for preview in feed)
Full Description

He’d been a patient in our unit for several weeks. No longer able to move anything below his shoulders. Trapped in his own body. Unable to breathe on his own- his lungs ravaged by infection, his breathing muscles weak and wasted. Kidneys unable to filter and concentrate. He was withdrawn, unable to interact, unable to cope with a life turned upside down.

He slowly started responding more. The first time I made him smile, it made my week. It became my goal each day to see his smile. I would come in his room and give him a thumbs up and tell him how happy i was to see him and ask him to show me his thumbs up back. He would put all his effort into rotating his hand, closing his fingers and raising his thumb. He would get about 30% there and I would tell him how proud I was. I would grasp his hand with both of mine and look him in the eyes and tell him- you’re getting better every day.

The second time he was our patient when his skin started to breakdown and open up, I stopped by his room to share our “secret handshake”. I told him, “I want you to know that I think and pray for you all the time. I know this is hard, but I will always be here holding the hope for you. That’s what we do- we hold the hope for you when you can’t do it yourself.”

The third time he was our patient was worse. He hadn’t been interactive at all, laying in the bed, a new complication that left his brain foggy and unable to concentrate. I went by his room after work one day since he was in the other ICU. He looked so weak and distant. I said his name, gave him a thumbs up and smiled at him. He smiled back. His wife said he hadn’t been responsive at all since he’d come back to the hospital. This was the first time he’d smiled in over a week. And it was for me. He knew I was holding the hope for him, rooting for him. My eyes welled up with tears and I just stood there holding his hand. Unable to speak.

I don’t know what happened to him. I don’t know if he’s still living. But I will never forget that smile, that one time he told me I was his favorite nurse, that one time I told him that I would hold the hope for him. So many moments with a man who was once a stranger and is now engrained in my mind forever.

Leave a Comment for for

Leave a Comment for Courtney!