Deanne Niedziela wheeled herself into what had been her corner office in a tower at Providence Mission Hospital in Mission Viejo and glanced out the large windows.
“I always had a view of Saddleback,” she said. She looked out again, realizing that Friday, June 14, was the last day of her nearly 31-year career.
More than a year earlier, Niedziela, 55, was on vacation, in a Costa Rica jungle, when a tree limb fell from high overhead and knocked her into the ground. Her injuries were severe.
But that was last year. On this day, she guided her motorized wheelchair, using the palms of her hands — her fingers locked in a permanent curl — to examine some of her most treasured work mementos: a handmade quilt nurses made for her when she became their director in 2014; a framed master’s degree from the University of Texas, Arlington; a stack of books about nursing leadership.
“It’s really hard,” Niedziela said, glancing again through an office she’d arrived at only after decades of effort. She started as a bedside nurse, then became a charge nurse before being named executive director of Acute Care Services in Mission Hospital’s Neuroscience Institute.
While she’s proud of much of what she’s done at the hospital, one success in particular stands out. Behavioral Evaluation and Addiction Management, which Niedziela developed, is a program that helps members of the medical staff deal with patients going through drug withdrawal while being treated for other issues. The program was written up in a medical journal in 2021 and remains in use and unique to Mission.
She’d once hoped it wouldn’t be the last novel program she would develop.
She had no plan to retire when her husband, Ken Niedziela, planned a vacation to Costa Rica, their first since 2018. They were admiring waterfalls when they made a last stop at the La Paz Waterfall Gardens. Another couple was taking photos, so they waited to get closer.
Suddenly, Ken Niedziela heard what he described as something akin to thunder and saw a flash pass by him. He then saw his wife, less than four feet away, lying on her back and unconscious.
Deanne Niedziela underwent nine hours of surgery before being placed on a medivac flight back to Orange County. She wound up in a hospital she knew intimately, Mission, where she was evaluated and treated. One of her local physicians, Dr. Brian Hwang, said the initial emergency measures taken by the Costa Rican team likely saved her life.
At Mission, Deanne Niedziela underwent one more surgery and began physical therapy.
Initially, she vowed to return to the job and the team of 400 nurses she oversaw. She believed that could happen after receiving treatment from specialists at Craig Hospital in Denver, which is renowned for the rehabilitation of brain and spinal cord injuries. On July 3 the Niedzielas took another medivac flight, this time to Denver.
But after a few weeks, on Sept. 21, the doctors at Craig offered a final assessment, and her dreams of walking the halls at Mission ended.
“It was a complete Asia-A injury,” Deanne Niedziela said, referring to the loss of both motor and sensory function below the injury.
“It’s the worst kind. And it will never heal.”
Swallowing that news was hard for the couple.
“Not until that moment did we know what Deanne’s long-term future looked like,” said Ken Niedziela. “While she hadn’t shown any improvement in her paralysis, we were hopeful — or we dreamed, at least — that Deanne would regain some functions over time.”
What gave a clearer picture, though, was the radiology scan the doctor put on a TV screen. It showed a dark section along her spine, suggesting the injury was “complete” and the chance for a positive outcome was, according to the doctor, “close to zero.”
“If Deanne’s injury had been “incomplete,” there would have been hope,” Ken Niedziela said.
Deanne became emotional, Ken Niedziela said, but she also began to accept her condition.
“I knew our lives had changed forever. We had been dealt a new hand and would have to learn to live with whatever came next,” he said.
“Which is what we’re doing today.”
Now, about nine months later, the couple is adjusting to their new normal.
They’ve had some highlights. One came recently, when their daughter, Alyssa Niedziela, graduated from Colorado State University. Another came when Deanne’s story was presented at the American Association of Critical Care Nurses conference in Denver and she participated in the discussion via Zoom. She’s also been meeting, in person and by phone, with other paralyzed Orange County residents.
But some days haven’t been good. And, sometimes, she’s thought “I shouldn’t have survived.”
She said her family pushes her forward.
She’s gone to therapy and still sees many of her co-workers, who she said have helped her “come to grips” with her situation. She also calls her sister, who she said is always there for a “good laugh.” And she jokes with Ken, telling him when he can’t “put on his crabby pants.”
The hardest issue, she said, has been the simple fact that she’s dependent on her husband and a caregiver for almost everything.
“It’s difficult not doing things for myself,” she said.
One thing, in particular, is cooking. Chef was a close second to nursing, career-wise, and her current kitchen doesn’t give her current physical condition much of a break.
The couple hopes to change that. They’re remodeling their kitchen so that Deanne can use it when Ken Niedziela, who works a full-time job, and the caretaker — who works 16 hours a week — aren’t unavailable.
“It will help me get a drink for myself,” she said. “And help with making some good, tasty food.”
To that end, the couple has launched a GoFundMe to help finance part of the six-figure remodel. Once complete (a contract is signed and work is slated to begin soon) the kitchen will be functional and accessible for anyone at their San Clemente home.
They are hopeful about the money. They were buoyed by the response of people who helped raise more than $100,000 to get Deanne flown from Costa Rica to Orange County and from Orange County to Colorado last year.
“People were surprised that almost 2,000 people donated to my first GoFundMe,” Deanne Niedziela said. “I didn’t realize I touched that many people.”
But Deanne Niedziela seems to have a way with people.
That was the case again on Friday, June 14, when the veteran nurse made her final rounds. She visited with nurses and others who staff at least five departments at the hospital.
On each floor she was greeted with cheers, hugs and tears.
“You guys sent me the most cards while I was at Craig,” she said as she rolled up at the nurse’s station at the Orthopedic Trauma Unit. “You were amazing!”
“We all still have hearts on our lockers,” responded Jennifer Bean, a nurse. “We miss you dearly.”
In the Oncology Department, Susan McElheny, who worked with Deanne Niedziela for years, was overwhelmed at the sight of her friend.
“We will never forget you,” she said.
Donna Thorlakson, a critical care nurse, told Deanne that she’d been “shaped” by her veteran colleague, explaining the ways Deanne played a critical role in her career.
“She was always patient, passionate, and encouraging; always reminding me to stretch my nursing knowledge,” Thorlakson said.
“She helped me tackle caring for the “fresh, open-heart” patients and also how to navigate the complexities of working with the cardio-thoracic surgery team.”
Now, Thorlakson said, she’s impressed again as she watches Deanne Niedziela navigate toward what she is calling the “silver lining” in her tragedy — a shift to continue mentoring and teaching young nurses.
“Deanne’s accident was beyond life-changing for her,” Thorlakson said. “Watching her use the situation to educate, encourage and inspire others is truly inspirational.”
Her husband was moved, too.
While Ken Niedziela, a somewhat stoic editor of a veterinary business publication, always knew his wife’s career was her passion, the response he saw during his wife’s last day of work left him overwhelmed. Nurses and staff turned out in huge numbers to see Deanne take her final rounds, and to attend the over-the-top farewell party in the hospital’s lobby later that day.
“I didn’t realize she had so many close co-workers who were giving her hugs and in tears,” he said, wiping away his own.
“I can see she touched their lives. And that they touched her, too.”
