So many lives have been touched by the nurses featured in the following pages. Their hard work, sharp minds, and easy bedside manner earned them a spot in our third Excellence in Nursing Awards. We received 456 nominations (to see how we narrowed down the list and for the full list of finalists, click here). Meet the 24 men and women who go above and beyond to make North Texas a healthier place to live.
Michael Bobbitt grew up on a horse farm in Crockett, a small town 150 miles southeast of Dallas. His Great Aunt Mary lived up the road. She was in her 80s and would tell of the time she drove a buggy when she was younger. She cooked him lunch every day over the summers. He loved hearing about her life. Bobbitt, director of nurses at the Presbyterian Village North senior living community, figures that’s when he learned to appreciate the elderly. “It’s a privilege to hear these people’s stories,” Bobbitt says, “and we get to care for them in the most fragile time of their lives.”
Bobbitt oversees a staff of 256 and says they are the best part of working in long-term care. “This is not an industry where they’re going to make a lot of money,” he says. “This is a tough industry, but it’s full of people who have a calling.” One colleague remembers when a nurse’s stepfather, a patient at the facility, passed away. Bobbitt came in at 4 am, so he could be there when the nurse arrived. He says the better he treats the nurses, the better they treat the residents. Under his care, the facility maintains a lower-than-average nurse turnover rate and has achieved five-star status. Last year, he won the nurse administrator of the year award for the southwest region of the National Association Directors of Nursing Administration in Long Term Care. Great Aunt Mary would surely be proud.
Nergis Blood realized that being the only certified wound, ostomy, and continence nurse at Fort Worth’s John Peter Smith Health Network was too much to handle. So she built a team of experts around her. There are now 65 nurses at JPS who educate and guide their units in skin assessment and pressure-ulcer prevention as part of the Skin Wound Assessment Team. Blood has also researched and initiated a number of other network-wide teams and protocols to prevent complications. The wound-care program has grown with more certified nurses since Blood started in 2008, and she is now the nurse coordinator for the outpatient wound clinic.
Born and raised in Germany by a surgeon and nurse, Blood satisfied her parents’ wish that she go to medical school. But she was a single mom and quit after a year to have more time with her son, even though it meant paying back a full scholarship. She then fell in love with an American soldier and left for Texas. Twenty years, a career in home health, a master’s degree, and a stint as a college professor later, she’s at JPS. “I have never wanted to do anything but be a nurse,” she says.
Working with an internationally known program that treats multiple sclerosis and several rare diseases keeps Audrey Ayres busy. A clinic nurse coordinator in the neurology department at UT Southwestern Medical Center and Children’s Medical Center, she once spent weeks coordinating almost a dozen specialists’ schedules so a family from the United Kingdom could fit months’ worth of care for their young daughter into one week.
And when she isn’t juggling administrative duties, Ayres is working on implementing a book and mobile-app project that will help young patients transition to the adult clinic. “Our goal is to educate and equip them so that they can still take care of themselves well without feeling like they have to stay home and not follow their dreams,” Ayres says. The patients’ emotional ups and downs are, respectively, the most rewarding and challenging aspects of her work. “These diseases are not a death sentence,” she says. “So we go through it all with them—graduation, high school, getting married, having babies, the whole bit.”
Faye Collins took one look at the woman and knew she would not be able to drive. The woman’s husband was on a helicopter headed for another hospital where he would be treated for the aneurysm ripping his aorta. Collins understood the shock. It was the same condition her husband died of 23 years ago. So Collins, director of emergency services at Baylor Medical Center at Waxahachie, drove the woman 30 miles to downtown Dallas. They talked the whole way. Collins explained the situation in detail, and the woman shared what she wanted to tell her husband. When they pulled up to the hospital, the woman was calm. “What I tell my staff is, good or bad, you’re going to be part of a life-altering event whether that patient lives or dies,” Collins says. “That family is going to remember your interaction when they look back, so make it a good memory.”
On the average day, Collins stays busy coaching nurses, monitoring processes, and working on quality metrics. Since taking the job in 2011, she has helped facilitate improvements to sepsis care and length-of-stay times (most patients get in and out of the ER in under two hours), making them the best in the Baylor Health Care System. She also guided her team in developing an employee caring campaign that asks nurses to describe their ideal work environment and encourages them to lead staff meetings. “You need to control your practice in order to advance it,” Collins says, “and I’m all about advancing the profession of nursing.”
Kathy Ahne Pratt
There are five words Kathy Ahne Pratt says a lot: I work for the patient. As a breast-cancer patient navigator at UT Southwestern’s Harold C. Simmons Comprehensive Cancer Center, she lives up to her motto as she expedites appointments, provides emotional support, and more. To save the newly diagnosed the trouble of running around campus to visit each doctor on the multidisciplinary team, she instituted conferences to gather all of them—breast surgeon, reconstructive surgeon, radiation oncologist, and medical oncologist—in a room with the patient and family to discuss the plan of action.
An oncology nurse for 30 years and dual-certified as an Oncology Certified Nurse and Certified Breast Care Nurse, Pratt has become an expert in translating doctorspeak. She’s also able to recognize when a patient hasn’t grasped it all and does whatever it takes to make sure the patient is fully informed. “Education is power,” Pratt says. “It’s such an out-of-control feeling when someone is diagnosed that giving them information helps them get their arms around it.”
Lee Lee Lee
Lee Lee Lee hasn’t spent a christmas holiday at home in years. She’s at Methodist Dallas Medical Center caring for preemies and singing the version of Twelve Days of Christmas she helped rework (“On the first day of Christmas, Methodist gave to me, a job in the best NICU”). A nurse for more than 40 years, she takes the holiday shifts so younger nurses can spend the day with their own kids. She’s often thinking about the staff. Last year, Lee created a serenity room complete with recliner, back massager, and music to relieve stress.
Lee became a nurse in her home country of Malaysia. Patients walked miles for care, and nurses washed bandages and sterilized needles for reuse. Lee went to England for midwife training, then was recruited by Methodist in 1971. The NICU has become something of a family to Lee. She was recently in the hospital tending to her “Texas mom,” a former co-worker who embraced young Lee as a daughter. And she has become a “grandmother” to a boy who, five years ago, was born at 24 weeks and stayed in the NICU for six months. The family became so close to Lee during those difficult days that they have since celebrated Thanksgiving together—a holiday she does enjoy at home.
For more than 20 years, Ken Adams worked in retail management. At 44, he decided to make a change, but he was a bit nervous about going back to college. “My biggest fear was that I’d be sitting in a classroom, and I’d be competing with people half my age,” he says. Turns out, it wasn’t a problem. “I think when people go in (to college) older, the focus becomes the goal much more than the focus 20 years before that.”
Now 64, Adams, a registered nurse at the UT Southwestern Medical Center, is still focused. He sees it as his life’s work to be an advocate for patients. “Being on the front line, I think we have a duty to give people reassurance, give them comfort, give them the answers,” he says.
And he can even point to his days in retail management as having played a role in understanding this. “Management has given me a great balance and perception that has really serviced me well in nursing,” he says. “Managers in retail have a strong customer-service focus. It’s given me a strong sense of mediation, how to handle complaints.”
Shana Merrick has a way of making everything sound like she’s reading from a storybook, even as she says, in her sweet Abilene drawl, “I’m so glad to be there. When they’re throwing up, when they’re saying bad words and spitting or bleeding, I’m glad to be right there.” She’s referring to the bedside, where she has stayed for 23 years through 26 different hospitals. Before signing on to be a staff nurse in the day surgery and post-anesthesia care units at Baylor Medical Center at Garland, Merrick was a travel nurse, working in everything from psychiatrics in Nevada to radiology in North Carolina, with mission trips between assignment to places such as eastern Zambia and Guatemala.
Merrick’s adventures have made her the nurse she is today. She brushed up on her Spanish skills at a California hospital just 30 miles north of the Mexican border. While volunteering in India last fall she learned holistic ayurvedic practices from Indian doctors. And as the chief pain management nurse at Walter Reed Army National Military Medical Center, Merrick studied Reiki touch therapy, which she still uses while caring for patients before and after surgery. But one of the most valuable lessons she has learned is to listen more than talk. As Merrick says, “If we have our ears open, our heart can lead us.”
Barbara Harty wears many hats. for one, she’s a gerontological nurse practitioner. The majority of her time is spent in nursing homes and assisted-living facilities, following close to 200 patients, most with dementia, in collaboration with four board-certified geriatricians at the University of North Texas Health Science Center. As an assistant professor of medicine, she lectures to fourth-year med students and takes them on her rounds. She’s also a clinical research coordinator for pharmaceutical trials that get her deeply involved in worldwide research to help improve functionality in patients with Alzheimer’s disease. And Harty frequently acts as a guest speaker: her résumé lists almost 300 presentations. She has taught Alzheimer’s Association support groups what to expect with their loved one’s disease and nonpharmacological approaches to challenging behaviors to nursing home staff.
In all of her roles, Harty is an educator. She hopes others learn to see the person underneath dementia and realize that geriatric nursing is not just changing bedpans. “We focus on the whole person, their social welfare, personality, not just medical conditions,” Harty says, “and we try to keep them active in their home as long as we can.”
Lynda S. Cunigan
Something wasn’t adding up with one of Lynda Cunigan’s home-health patients. The elderly man was losing weight and living in filthy conditions, which was strange considering some distant relatives moved in, presumably to take care of him. They were living off his money, after all. But when Cunigan, co-owner and director of nursing for Golden Years Homecare Specialists, spoke with him, the man denied any neglect. Cunigan didn’t stop there. She spent a weekend going between Adult Protective Services, his out-of-state sister, the Golden Years staff, and the family members in his house before she was finally able to help the elderly man realize he needed to get out of that house and into a place with full-time, professional care.
Assessing the situation required a particular set of skills Cunigan picked up as an officer with the Dallas Police Department in the 1980s. “You walk into a disturbance, and it’s on you to figure out who’s lying, telling the truth, how dangerous the situation is, and to come to a resolution about it—and quickly,” Cunigan says.
When phyllis mccorstin graduated from high school in 1968, there weren’t a lot of career options for the young women of Savoy, Texas. Secretary, teacher, nurse—those were the usual routes. It wasn’t until she was well into her 30s that McCorstin fulfilled a longtime desire to join, as she puts it, “a large, wonderful team called the army.” Today, she says her 25 years in the Army reserves nurse corps (she retired as a colonel) benefited her civilian work. “The military is very stringent about education,” McCorstin says. “They expect you to learn and grow.”
As a clinical nurse specialist in the intensive care units at Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital Dallas, keeping step with the rapid changes in critical care is crucial. In addition to making daily rounds, teaching in the nurse residency program, and giving presentations, McCorstin is responsible for researching and rolling out new protocols. “It takes a lot of people working together to make sure things are done the right way,” McCorstin says.
Nurse Practitioner—Primary Care
Two decades ago, Lori Spies had never traveled beyond North America. She was a stay-at-home mom, raising two daughters in Sunnyvale. When her youngest started kindergarten, she decided to go to school, too. Today, Spies is a nurse practitioner at a local clinic, a senior lecturer at Baylor University’s Louise Herrington School of Nursing, and completing a Ph.D. dissertation on nursing in Africa. “I always wanted to see the world in a real way, rather than in the resort,” Spies says. And that she has.
Every March, Spies takes a group of Baylor students to Ethiopia, and in the summer, she spends a few weeks in Uganda teaching auditoriums full of eager, local nurses. She has also traveled to Argentina, Honduras, Mexico, India, Vietnam, and China for her work. Spies says that nurses deliver 80 percent of the population’s health in developing countries, and she feels she’s able to make the biggest impact by educating them. Many of her nurse practitioner students have gone on to help the underserved locally, at the Agape Clinic and Mission East Dallas, and as far as South Sudan and Papua New Guinea. “I am really fortunate to have students who have a global vision for their life’s work,” Spies says.
Megan Linker’s nursing career began in high school when her mother, Laura, was diagnosed with breast cancer, not once or twice, but three times. Linker would come home from school and care for her mother, who was given a 10 percent chance to live. Linker’s mom beat the odds, and today, mother and daughter work together at Baylor Heart and Vascular Hospital. “Having your mom at work is great,” says Linker,
who works as a recovery nurse.
Linker’s mom helped her get an interview for her current job. “I had no interest in working in cardiovascular nursing,” she says. But after working a few shifts, Linker “fell in love with it.” And within six months, the now-26-year-old was asked to chair the house-wide committee, which helps make clinical decisions for the Baylor heart vascular system. Encouragement from her mom, co-workers, and patients has led her to pursue a Master of Science degree in nursing. “Initially, I was extremely intimidated, because I was such a new nurse,” she says. “But they knew me.”
Leslie Lewis’ dad was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease before anyone knew what Crohn’s disease was. She watched him struggle through the complications of the disease and always thought she would lose him at a young age. Her mom, however, was relatively healthy—except for the asthma she battled as a child, which came back in her 30s. The asthma caught up to her, and at 45, Lewis’ mother died. Lewis’ father followed shortly after. Lewis says she didn’t know enough about how to help her parents. This drove her to enter nursing school.
She thought she’d go into adult ICU, but then she did her pediatrics rotation. “I knew kids were where I wanted to be,” she says. “They were so vulnerable, and you could do so much to help them.”
Lewis spent several years working in the ICU and doing transport. She’s now the ECMO coordinator at Medical City Children’s Hospital. It’s her job to put children on the ECMO, a partial heart-lung bypass machine, after they have cardiac surgery. “It can be stressful at times, but it’s very rewarding,” she says. “We give these kids a chance to survive.”
Nurse practitioner—Acute Care
Brenda Thompson traveled from Dallas to Texas A&M to help a patient with his beta-blockers. A department head at the college, the patient was worried about missing classes. So every couple of weeks, Thompson would load up her supplies and drive to see him. The patient never missed a class.
This is normal behavior for Thompson, who answered a newspaper ad to start the nation’s first heart-failure program in 1996. She had spent 10 years in ICU nursing and cardiovascular care. When she got the job at the UT Southwestern Medical Center, she stood in the middle of the outpatient office and asked, “If I were a patient, what would I want to have available to me?” One thing that came to mind was having a provider on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week. For the next seven years, she would work many of those shifts. For Thompson, building a successful center was about insight and knowledge. “It’s just keeping the patient at the center,” she says, “and building everything around that patient and that family.”
Between college semesters, Rosemary Luquire took a job as a unit secretary in a hospital. At the time, she was pursuing a music degree. Today, she has spent the past 41 years as a nurse. Corporate senior vice president/chief nursing executive for the entire Baylor Health Care System, Luquire says the switch was easy. “It’s so focused on making a difference for people, for the community, for patients and families,” she says.
Luquire says the industry used to be focused on hospital care, but now there’s a shift toward wellness and helping people with chronic illness live better. To accomplish this, nurses must continue to learn, something Luquire is passionate about. “We have worked for our leaders to become better educated,” she says, noting that hospital administrators have advanced degrees. “It’s really putting the nurse leaders, giving them the right skillset to sit at the table with all disciplines and be a valued partner.”
Michael Rogers earned his bachelor’s degree in psychology and went to work for a law firm where he reviewed medical records for pharmaceuticals. Reviewing the records, he realized that people needed to know the implications of medications before they started taking them. At 24, rather than going to law school, he decided to go into nursing.
Rogers is now a bedside nurse at UT Southwestern Medical Center’s Zale Lipshy University Hospital. Rogers’ patients are often on bed rest. After weeks of little movement, his female patients’ hair gets matted and, sometimes, shaved off entirely. “I hate that patients come back from rehab and they’re bald,” he says. “They’re already depressed, and then we take away more of their self-identity by taking away their hair.” So he asked a co-worker to teach him how to braid. Although his days are spent helping people through all sorts of issues, the simple act of braiding hair has given Rogers a moment to connect with one patient and her husband. “He needed somebody that knew what was going on and wouldn’t judge him for not being strong for his wife and let him be vulnerable for a second.” Rogers was happy to be that person.
Several years ago, DaiWai Olson had a depressed patient. The patient’s dream was to retire early and spend the rest of his days golfing. He did retire early, but then he got into an accident that paralyzed him. Olson searched “paraplegic” and “golf,” and up popped multiple specially outfitted golf carts that would allow the paralyzed patient to participate in the sport. Just like that, everything turned around. “Sometimes you just have to sit down with a patient and find out what it is for them,” Olson says. “I really think that nursing care made a difference in his life.”
At the UT Southwestern Medical Center, as an associate professor of neurology, neurotherapeutics, and neurosurgery, Olson, 51, spends his days researching how nursing contributes to patients’ recoveries. So far, he has published more than 100 research articles on the topic. “I think it’s a fair statement that everyone believes nurses make a difference,” he says. “But scientifically, how do you tease out that variable? How do you account for that?”
Early in Pamela Green’s nursing career, a young man was admitted into the hospital where she was working in intensive care. The man was on a ventilator and was medically paralyzed. Every time he tried to wake up, his body would quiver “as if he was trying to overcome gravity.” It was rough on everyone. One night, the young man was Green’s only patient. For the entire evening, she sat beside him and explained that what he was feeling was medically induced. She sensed that his fight against the restraints had everything to do with confusion.
The next day, the young man stopped fighting his condition. He didn’t remember Green specifically, but he remembered a nurse sitting with him, telling him it was okay. “You’re not just there for what you have knowledge of medically,” Green says. “You’re there to meet all the needs of the patient.”
Green is now a nurse practitioner for the supportive- and palliative-care program at Baylor Medical Center at Carrollton. Anytime she cares for a patient making end-of-life decisions, she remembers that lesson and the lessons she learned when her father was in the same position. “When I had that conversation with my father,” she says, “I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was the greatest gift my father ever gave me.”
A teenage girl was traveling alone from Mexico to Chicago when she started having contractions. She stopped in Dallas and ended up in front of Kim Green.
“You could immediately tell that she was frightened,” Green says. “Nobody was there to support her. She was completely alone.”
Green spent the next few hours in the room with her, encouraging her, and reducing her anxiety. Because the teenager had been traveling and didn’t anticipate going into labor, she had nothing for her baby who was born that evening. So the next day, Green took baby items to the hospital and gave them to her. The teenager cried.
For 48-year-old Green, nursing comes down to one thing: compassion. “If somebody cannot treat the person they’re caring for like a family member, then they’re probably not in the right field,” she says.
Green puts this policy into place every day at Methodist Dallas Medical Center where she’s a nurse manager of 95 employees. She chairs multiple committees (including one that is focused on reducing workplace violence) and heads up a research project focused on infant feeding practices. Her job is intense. But it’s worth it.
Regina Miller worked in a burn unit and emergency room for years before having a family. She took time off to raise her children, but when they went to school, she returned to nursing and was offered a job
as a school nurse. “I thought, ‘Oh, well, that’ll be nice. How hard can that be?’ ” Then she laughs.
As the school nurse at Jerry R. Junkins Elementary in Dallas ISD, the 52-year-old is in charge of hundreds of patients—children and school faculty. Some days, she’s overseeing an abuse case and working with Child Protective Services to ensure a child gets out of a bad situation. Other days, she’s returning from a field trip with a class of students who have all become ill. Then there are the days where she has to explain to a parent that if she doesn’t come pick up her child with a 104 temp, that she will call the police. “You try to help so many,” she says. “But you certainly can’t help all of them.”
Although she acknowledges this reality, it doesn’t keep Miller from trying. She’ll show up on doorsteps. She’ll find work-arounds to get glasses for her students. It’s not an emergency room or a burn unit. And it most certainly isn’t easy. “But it’s wonderful,” Miller says.
Sharon D. Smith
Sharon D. Smith’s last child had complications during delivery. Her cord was wrapped around her neck, and the nurses and doctors had to work quickly to save her life. Smith, then an accountant, watched them work and decided she wanted to help people the way they helped her. Five months later, she started nursing school.
A couple years into her education, doctors found a tumor on Smith’s brain. Although she had given many patients pep talks during her training, she realized it was time to give herself one. She told herself, “I’m going to be a miracle, and everything is going to be okay.”
She opted to postpone surgery for a year so she could finish school. During that time, she worked, holding patients’ hands, letting them cry while she dealt with massive headaches. Her patients rarely knew what she was dealing with. “We have to have positive thinking,” she says. “It’s mind over matter.”
She finally was able to get her surgery. And two months later, she was back at work.
Smith uses her story to comfort patients in her department at the UT Southwestern St. Paul Hospital. And she tells patients the same thing she told herself when she heard the news: “This is a temporary setback for a major comeback.”
Carole Inman’s mom was a nurse. inman’s first job was as a nurse’s aid at a hospital when she was 15. From that moment, Inman knew she wanted to be a nurse. When she told her mom, her mom was thrilled. Her only advice: work hard.
The 64-year-old has been doing just that ever since. As a coordinator for the joint program at Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital Plano, Inman has been instrumental in reducing the number of falls the patients experience. “One of the biggest issues after joint replacement is trying to keep our patients comfortable,” she says. At a conference, she heard about a time-released medicine that allows patients to stay mobile, but with less pain. She discussed the medication with the doctors in her department and got it implemented. Inman was also instrumental in getting her department certified with the Joint Commission.
“That was one of our ways of validating the strengths of our program and letting the public know,” she says. “There are so many choices out there. Some are definitely better than others.”
The story starts in the emergency room at Parkland Memorial Hospital. Lucilla DeTamble, a “late-bloomer” who entered nursing at 28 after beginning a career in insurance, was working on the emergency floor. A man walked in with his 3-year-old daughter in his arms. It was apparent the child had already passed, but the man was hysterical, saying his daughter had been run over by an ice-cream truck and asking for help. At the time, hospitals were starting to push the practice of families being present to witness what was happening with critical patients. So while the doctors and nurses took the little girl and worked on her, the father watched. The team’s efforts were unsuccessful, but the father calmed down. Seeing the efforts that were made helped him accept his daughter’s death.
When DeTamble finishes her story, the 61-year-old admits she’s surprised she’s crying. It’s been more than 25 years. “You learn how to cope with it,” she says of the daily stresses of the emergency department. “You learn how to separate yourself. You have to see it in a different perceptive.”
For 33 years, DeTamble has worked in various emergency departments. Now, as the staff nurse in the emergency department at Baylor University Medical Center, DeTamble has dealt with the worst cases imaginable. “It’s always high-stress,” she says. “You don’t know what’s going to walk in that door.”