By Maggie Blackwell

For the Salisbury Post

SALISBURY — Forty-five years ago, Sally Bame didn’t decide she should be a nurse. God did, she says.

A high school senior at the time, Bame was sitting in church and prayed for guidance on her future.

“He spoke very audibly to me,” she says in her quiet and gentle voice. “’I want you to be a nurse.’ So I told him, ‘Lord, I need your help.’ He has helped me all the way through. When I was discouraged at all, he lifted me up and helped me.”

Bame retired from Hefner Veterans Affairs Medical Center in early June after working there for 34 years. Before that, she worked at the Lutheran home.

She was only 19 when she started nursing. She recalls an early patient who was a critical diabetic. She was working the night shift, and she was aware of his fragility and kept checking on him. Late in the night, she had a nagging feeling to look in on him yet again. He was not breathing. She called for a team, and he was revived. Eventually he went home.

“All I’ve been able to say is, ‘Thank you, Lord,’ for letting me be there to serve our fellow man.”

Her first love was geriatrics, and she says if you had a good relationship with your grandparents, you may be a candidate for gerontology. She obtained certification in the field and used it at the Lutheran Home and in her early days at the VA.

Bame recalls the excitement of moving the gerontology unit to Building 42 at the VA in 1990.

“Bill Hefner got federal funding for the new building, and it was a showcase for the U.S. at that time. People came from all over the nation to see it. It was exciting to be able to share and know you are on the cutting edge of your field.”

On moving day, the staff was excited but nervous, wondering it the patients would adapt. How would they sleep? Luckily, she says, everyone acclimated well, and they had a calm night.

That concern for her patients’ welfare is a hallmark of Bame’s career. She tells story after story that demonstrates her planning for her patients.

“I’ve had a lot of sleepless nights,” she admits, “thinking, ‘What can I do for that person to help them? What kind of treatment can we explore for them to have a better life?’ There have been lots of sleepless nights.”

Bame transitioned to wound care in 1994. She’s always loved the field because she says it’s exciting to see wounds heal.

“I’ve always loved difficult ones, being able to help the patient and caregivers. It’s exciting to see them heal, to see the wound heal and they have a better quality of life. But I’ve worked with a terrific team. My favorite saying is there’s no ‘I’ in team.”

She gives daughter Amanda Savage the credit for her inspiration about wounds.

“I feel my whole career has been an inspiration from the Lord. I could see his work in things when he would inspire me. But my other inspiration was my daughter, Amanda Savage.”

Savage followed in her mom’s footsteps to become a nurse and work in wound care at the VA; she’s been there 16 years. One summer Bame and Savage were on the beach reading magazine articles on wound care when Savage suggested they get certified in wound management. Bame was a little afraid she wouldn’t pass, but they both passed with flying colors.

“Now that I’m retiring, I leave my legacy to her,” Bame says.

She was a little surprised, she says, when Savage was a senior in high school and said she wanted to be a nurse.

“I’d worked long hours, night shifts, sometimes missing school functions. I tried to always be there, but sometimes it wasn’t possible. They knew I wanted to. But then we’d see a veteran or his family when we were out, and they’d say how much they appreciated all my work. My kids have tender hearts for others.”

Bame’s son, Andy Bame, is a manager at Metrolina Greenhouses. She’s proud of him and her four loving grandchildren.

Bame credits God with the novel idea of starting a healing tree at the clinic. When a veteran’s wound healed, he or she would place a flag on the tree. After outgrowing the original tree, she had to get a larger one.

Bame is thankful to have worked for the VA for many reasons. She says her family has always been patriotic. She did not join the military but says this was her service — serving veterans. At retirement, she received a certificate thanking her for her dedicated service to the federal government.

“You read it in your private time,” she says. “It’s so powerful. It really means a lot to me.”

Her grandmother, Arey, had 2,169 hours in 23 years of volunteer work with World War II veterans. She wanted to give back to those returning from the war. Bame says she was a real inspiration to her.

Another reason she’s thankful is the VA had access to supplies and interventions that were needed.

“Special beds, chairs, power chairs, grafts, we’ve been able to get them. It made me proud when they needed something and we could get it and make their quality of life better.”

Bame says some patients may heal in two or three months while others may take years, depending on the extent of the wound. She says to find out how she could help that wound heal she needed to get to know the patient: their sleep habits, how they ate, how much fluid they took in, and their family.

“You have to look at the whole person; you can’t just look at the hole. You really get to knowing the family. If they are around several years, you hear about vacations, families, babies. Within the bounds of professionalism, you get attached.”

A co-worker says Sally is renowned for getting difficult wounds to heal. Bame is bashful about admitting that it’s true. But she does acknowledge that she’s helped save many, many limbs.

She says there are many interventions nurses can go through if the veteran hasn’t waited too long to get help. She says a wound has to have good blood supply to heal. Many times they did procedures to help that blood supply. Many times, it was marginal.

People often called Sally asking for her thoughts on wounds or asking her to take a look and give feedback. She loved helping with recommendations and seeing results. She says years of wound management have helped her, years of seeing what works.

Oftentimes when patients had limbs missing, doctors were able to prevent further amputations that would have caused new difficulties for her patients.

Bame worked four 10-hour days a week.

“I got up at 5:30, and 10 hours usually turned into – well, let me just say the parking lot was usually empty when I went out to my car. It’s hard to do what you need to in just 10 hours. I got home close to 8 p.m. most days.”

She’s outlasted some managers. She’s seen some employees pass away, and she’s made many friends over the years. She says they’re a big support group for each other. She thinks she’s seen thousands of veterans and many thousands of wounds.

“There have been a lot of patients who I hated to see go. One cried when he heard I was retiring. He said, ‘I’ll see you in heaven.’”

Bame says she will miss the staff, surgeons, doctors and physician’s assistants – everyone who is dedicated to serving veterans and making a difference for them. But she has plans for retirement, with her grandchildren being her first priority. They all have their summer planned together.

Then she wants to volunteer at their schools, helping children with reading. She also has checked into her volunteer status at the VA. The staff has her on speed dial for difficult cases.

Bame says her advice to young nurses is to realize it’s a special calling with a broad spectrum of specialties. She says to consider the whole person: always listen to your patient. They can tell you so much. Always be a good listener, she says, and learn how you can help them.

She proudly displays a T-shirt a co-worker gave her. It reads, “Retired, but nursing is in my blood.”

She says she only wishes she could be a super grandmother and continue to work as a nurse at the same time.

“With age, you only have a certain amount of time to keep going.”

What will she miss the most? She laughs. “Of course, it’s the patients. When I came in this morning, there was one veteran we’ve had difficulty healing. As I was walking down the hall, he took off his cap and said, ‘Look, it’s healed.’”