Some teams clock in and out, but ours was built on strength and support.
Our rehab unit was small and intimate with just 12 beds, and we served the community well.
We were experts in rehabilitation, with some of our nurses having more than 40 years of experience. I’ve seen patients come in with limited mobility and walk out independently.
But one day, our unit closed very suddenly and without warning.
That particular day, there had been rumors circulating among staff that our site was closing.
Nevertheless, that Wednesday leadership came to a meeting and informed us that the unit would be closing on June 30, 2025. They answered a few questions, and that was it.
How could we close?
We were all scattered and displaced. Several of the incredible nurses I had the pleasure of working with gave decades of dedicated service. These nurses were kind, compassionate, loyal, committed, knowledgeable, and trustworthy.
They served as patient advocates, educators, and healers — exemplifying honesty, integrity, and empathy. They accepted the great challenges of rehab nursing.
We provided a valuable service to our community. Patients came to us from a wide range of hospitals, not just those affiliated with our system. We received feedback letters from discharged patients, praising us for a job well done and moving them back toward independence.
Our greatest gift was always seeing our patients make progress.
Yet, still, we closed
The reality of healthcare closures
Closures in healthcare aren’t new. Jobs are downsized. People lose their positions. The economy can be unkind. There are no guarantees, and nothing is certain.
I remember other hospitals that closed. I received care at one of them and was shocked when it shut down. In all cases, jobs were lost, and long-standing professional relationships were disrupted. Some communities lost essential care providers.
Starting over isn’t easy — building new teams, adjusting to new environments, learning new dynamics, the list goes on.
Losing more than a job — losing a family
When we closed, I was numb and in disbelief. I was at home more, and my husband asked why I had so many days off. I couldn’t even bring myself to say it — our unit had closed. It took two weeks before I could say it out loud.
My work family was shattered. I spent 13 years with those nurses and cared deeply for them. We worked in unity and harmony and supported each other. We celebrated holidays, weddings, and birthdays together. We celebrated the birth of children and even watched them grow up.
We supported one of our own through a breast cancer diagnosis, where she received treatment and came back to work, appearing healthy and well. We cared for a nurse who rehabbed with us after a stroke. We lost a colleague and stood by her family. I lost my own father on my birthday, and I received so much love and support from my work family.
Finding new paths
We adapted. We searched for jobs, working with our assigned HR partners to help us in our search. The great thing about being part of a larger network is opportunity. Everyone who wanted a job ultimately secured one. Some stayed in the network, while others pursued new ventures like care management, school nursing, doctors’ offices, and different rehab units.
I initially took a full-time day shift job at a skilled nursing facility. After two shifts, I knew it wasn’t the right fit. I’m a rehab nurse with a CRRN, and I missed my patient population.
I was able to switch to a part-time night position in a rehab unit. It felt right. I saw myself thriving there. I wanted to finish my nursing career in rehab.
I’m grateful for the ability to transition, even if the process was rushed. Some of us made hasty choices, but HR supported us, and for that I am deeply thankful.
A delayed farewell
When our unit closed, it happened very quickly. We never said our final goodbyes to each other properly. We never got the chance to embrace and exchange words of good regard. There was no last meal or gathering together. We each disappeared one by one as our new positions started
So, because I never got to formally say goodbye, here it is: Farewell, rehab nurses. I’ll miss the camaraderie, the collaboration, and the excellence. You demonstrated our organization’s values every single day. You put patients first. You listened, educated, empowered, and protected. You met patients where they were and guided them toward independence.
You held yourselves to the highest standards, and you were honorable. You showed integrity. You made decisions that were right and just.
I witnessed your pursuit of excellence every day, and our patients benefited from it.
I will never forget this team. You were like a family. May you be blessed and find peace in your new roles. I’m so grateful we accepted the challenge together. It was a joy to watch you educate, advocate, and uplift our patients.
I love you.
