She isn’t family. She isn’t getting paid for this. She’s a nurse whose shift ended hours ago, and she refused to let go of her patient’s hand.
For 6-year-old Kylian, the pediatric oncology ward was a terrifying place, especially at night. The constant, low beeping of the IV pumps and heart monitors were sounds he associated with pain and fear. He hadn’t slept well in days.
His mom, exhausted, was on the small cot in the corner, trying to get her own rest. Kylian’s nurse, a woman named Jenna, was at the end of a brutal 12-hour shift when she came in for her final check. She saw Kylian’s eyes, wide in the dim light.
“What’s wrong, buddy?” she asked softly.
“I’m scared,” he whispered, his voice tiny. “Please don’t leave me.”
Jenna looked at his exhausted mom, then back at Kylian. Her shift was over. She should be heading home to her own bed. Instead, she pulled a chair from the corner of the room.
“You rest,” she told Kylian’s mom, who had started to stir. “I’ve got him.”
She sat down, took Kylian’s small hand in hers, and just started talking. She told him about her funny dog, about what she was going to have for breakfast, about anything but the hospital. Slowly, his breathing evened out, and his eyes drifted shut.
Kylian’s mom woke up to the sound of silence—the quiet, deep breathing of her son. She saw Nurse Jenna, slumped over and fast asleep, her shift long over, but her hand still firmly holding her son’s. She was so overcome, she quietly started filming, whispering about the angel watching over her boy.
