"It changed our lives forever": A letter to the cardiac care team
“It is hard to put into words what your team means to our family, but we are going to try.
When Fred Hampton was transferred to Mission Hospital in the early morning of Thursday, January 29th, everything felt uncertain and overwhelming. We arrived scared, exhausted and bracing for the worst. If we are honest, we were even hesitant about coming, as we have seen the published news of Mission. It wasn’t where we originally planned to be and we walked in carrying a lot of worry and doubt. But within minutes of walking through the doors, though, something shifted.
From the very start in the ER, the care was immediate and intentional. Dr. Patel and the emergency team moved quickly, confidently and with such calm reassurance that our fear began to settle. Dad was assessed, processed and sent up to the 3rd floor almost instantly, where he awaited a heart cath. Watching the team mobilize so fast told us we were exactly where we needed to be. From that first room forward, it felt like the entire hospital went to work for him. Tests seemed to happen nonstop - labs, scans, imaging, monitoring, conversations and explanations. Every person balanced urgency with compassion. We never once felt like a number or a case.
He was someone’s dad, someone’s husband, someone deeply loved and you treated him that way.
When the cath revealed multiple major blockages and we learned he would need open heart surgery (CABG x4), our world stopped for a moment. Dr. Russell was the one who delivered that news, and we will never forget the way he did it. Honest, steady and incredibly kind. He took the time to explain everything, answered every question and spoke to us like family, not just relatives in a room. In a moment that could have felt terrifying, his compassion gave us calm. And almost immediately after, Torry came in with her mobile ultrasound machine. Her gentle presence, warm smile and quiet reassurance brought a peace to the room that we didn’t even realize we needed. It felt like care went beyond medicine in that moment it felt personal.
There are so many individuals who left a mark on us. Dr. Patel in the ER, Dr. Russell, Torry with mobile ultrasound, Dr. Gleason (who actually did the surgery), Brandon in pre-op, Christina and Justin in the Cardiac ICU, Gio, Laura, Lauren and Joshua on the 4th floor. And just as importantly, the many others whose names we didn’t catch but whose faces and kindness we will always remember - the nurses providing blankets in the middle of the night, the techs quietly checking vitals, the aides offering water or a warm smile and the people who answered a nervous question for the tenth time like it was the first. Every single one of these folks mattered.
What struck us most was that the compassion didn’t stop with the people directly assigned to Dad. We watched staff members who had nothing to do with our situation walk the halls and still care just as deeply. If someone looked lost or unsure where to go, they stopped. They asked how they could help. They walked people to their destination instead of pointing down a hallway.
That kindness wasn’t situational, it was cultural. It was everywhere.
After surgery, watching him fight his way back in the Cardiac ICU was both terrifying and hopeful. Christina and Justin guided every breath, every step and every milestone. Then came the recovery floor, where healing really began to take shape. Walking the halls. Fewer tubes. More strength. More of “him” coming back each day. You celebrated the small wins with us like they were big ones, because you knew they were.
And somehow, all of this unfolded during a snowstorm, which we barely noticed.
Being stuck away from home could have made everything harder, but you made it comfortable. The Heart Center waiting area became our little home base with those recliners and quiet corners to rest. The café kept us fueled with warm meals and coffee when we didn’t even realize how depleted we were.
In the middle of one of the most stressful weeks of our lives, you created small comforts that meant more than you probably realize.
We would also be remiss not to recognize someone who may not wear scrubs or work bedside, but who represents the heart of your organization just the same - Philip Coyle. As one of your helicopter pilots, he plays a critical role in caring for patients during some of their most urgent moments, which is heroic work in itself. We happen to know him personally, and seeing the same integrity, professionalism and genuine kindness that we’ve always known in him reflected inside Mission was incredibly meaningful. It reminded us that not all hospital heroes are clinicians some simply lead with character and heart in everything they do. Mission is fortunate to have people of his class and caliber representing your team.
Looking back now, we can confidently say we were completely wrong to hesitate.
What felt like an inconvenience or change of plans at the time, we now truly believe was God’s divine plan. He placed us exactly where we needed to be, surrounded by the exact people who would care for Dad the way you did. From the ER to the first room, to the cath lab, to open heart surgery, to the ICU and finally to the recovery floor, every single person we encountered impacted our story. Every one of you played a role in saving our dad. Thank you for the long hours, the expertise, the patience and the humanity you bring to work every day.
What you do is not just medicine. It is ministry, and it changed our lives forever.
Because of you, he is now home.
Because of you, our family is still whole.
Because of you, we get more time.
With our deepest gratitude,
The Family of Fred Hampton”