Read the inspiring story that led Nickie Hill to refuse defeat and return to school at age 52 to finish her nursing degree.

I could have saved him, I thought. I could have prevented him from dying.

That’s what kept replaying in my head that day in the hospital — that I could have made a difference. Right then, I promised myself that from then on, I would.

Before that tragedy, I was a certified nursing assistant at a local medical facility. I routinely worked “doubles” — eight hours followed by another eight hours. I pulled the double shifts at least three days a week.

It was hard, and I got little sleep. But I had to pay the bills. This is my job, I told myself. I was 52 years old, and professionally, I had arrived at a dead end. But then our family ran into a medical disaster, and suddenly I felt compelled to move forward.

My 18-year-old stepson, Damyles, was suffering migraine headaches. His pain got so bad that his mother took him to a nearby hospital emergency room.