Celebrating Children’s Hospital legend ‘Nurse Andy’
a ‘damn good’ legacy
Everything about Andy Katlubeck was memorable to those who frequent UPMC Children’s Hospital of Pittsburgh’s hematology and oncology unit. He was easy to spot with his allwhite high-top tennis shoes and bleach blond mullet hairstyle. Even his cologne became recognizable to coworkers and patients. But in a place where children fight for their lives, frivolities such as materialism and fashion sense are moot, which is why Nurse Andy’s manner stood out the most.
Between rounds of treatment and bumps in the road to recovery, families whose children battle cancer often make many trips to unit 9B. Admissions fill parents and children with fear of the unknown, wondering what lab work might reveal or the effects of invasive treatments. But the same families tell strikingly similar accounts of walking around the corner toward the nurse’s station and, despite their anxiety, feeling a little bit lighter when they saw that Nurse Andy was working.
“When you saw him, there was that slight sigh of relief even though it was so heavy and the burden we carry as parents going through that is more than anything I can put into words, but he was just in every kid’s corner,” said Alyssa Campieri, whose daughter, Brenley, battled a rare kidney cancer beginning in 2016 when she was 3. “You felt like he always made time for you. He had the largest heart and maybe the purest soul of anyone I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
Nurse Andy died unexpectedly in early July at age 59. Dozens of former patients and co-workers expressed their grief through public tributes on social media and the funeral home’s website, many of which are just as heartfelt as Ms. Campieri’s.
In one, a former coworker calls him a “legend.” Other colleagues make goodnatured jokes about his indifference to modern clothing and hairstyles, or fondly recall his goofy nature, even posting a picture of him wearing neon green googlyeyed goggles with his nursing scrubs. Most patient posts relay their family’s dire circumstances and express appreciation for Nurse Andy’s compassionate care.
Others posts are a little more specific.
Formerco-worker Sharon Smarto told the story of when a patient on the unit dressed as Nurse Andy for Halloween. “It was amazing and one of the greatest honors for Andy,” she wrote on the funeral home’s website.
A participant in Children’s Hospital’s Pet Friend program, Amanda Roemer, expressed her condolences publicly, then told the PostGazette that his welcoming nature even extended to four-legged visitors, as he always took the time to greet the support animals and fill bowls with water. Although patients have to meet criteria for pet visits, Nurse Andy knew which kids could use a pick-me-up on any particular day.
“A lot of times, we’d get there with only two kids on our list,” Ms. Roemer said. “But Andy would ask that we go visit others, just by standing in the doorway, even if we couldn’t go into the room.”
Sports talk 93.7 The Fan radio host Colin Dunlap — his daughter, Darran, battled leukemia beginning in 2016 when she wast 5 years old — posted a tribute on Instagram. The unit gave out handmade fleece blankets upon admission — the kind whose ends are snipped then tied together to create tassels — until a new protocol changed that. When Darran was admitted unexpectedly with a fever, she was disappointed when a blanket wasn’t waiting for her. Nurse Andy couldn’t let that stand.
“Come with me,” Mr. Dunlap recalls the nurse saying in the middle of the night. “I stashed a bunch away, and I don’t care if they fire me for being the person who makes these kids happy. They are getting blankets when I work. I love these kids.”
That “secret stash” was another hallmark of Nurse Andy.
He touched so many people, in part, because he regarded all 9B patients as his patients, not just those to whom he was assigned during a shift — a level of knowhow gained over his 38 years of nursing experience. He checked in on them and even left behind well-timed surprises from his “special room” when necessary. “He knew exactly when to pull toys out to spark joy for the kids,” Ms. Campieri said.
When baby dolls, Shopkins, cups of Play-Doh and craft supplies showed up, Nurse Andy took no credit, allowing the children to think magically about the unit’s Elf on the Shelf or some other mythical giver.
His mother, Patricia Katlubeck, 82, of Bethel Park — she had 34 years of her own nursing experience at Mayview State Hospital — knows her son was a selfless man and dedicated nurse. She points out that he was a trained nurse practitioner, with multiple offers to work in that capacity, but “he wanted to be hands-on with the patients,” so he remained a floor nurse. She also knows that because her son was single and without children, he volunteered to work on holidays so his coworkers could spend more time at home.
But the avalanche of stories, tributes and debts of gratitude for his work caught Mrs. Katlubeck and her daughters, Lori and Denise, completely off guard.
“I knew he was a good nurse, but he never really talked about it,” Denise Dinkfelt, his younger sister by 5 years, said. “It really hit us after I saw the Facebook post,” which tagged 100 coworkers and patients and elicited even more comments.
Around family, he was known to be talkative but not about himself. He directed most conversations toward the people around him, especially when it came to Mrs. Dinkfelt’s son and daughter, both of whom have chosen to be nurses.
His family notes his deadpan humor and got a kick out of hearing that some coworkers were unsure of how to take his story about being a roadie for singer Brett Michaels. “That is definitely an Andy urban legend,” his sister, Lori Katlubeck, said through laughter. “Andy could tell you a story that made you believe it as if you saw it yourself.”
Ms. Katlubeck is a hair stylist and was reluctantly responsible for the maintenance of her brother’s dated hairdo. But she minded less when she learned about its deeper meaning.
He was one of the people at Children’s Hospital who’d shave the heads of pediatric cancer patients when chemotherapy would cause their hair to begin falling out. “He would always tell me it made some of the kids feel better because his hair was so hilarious,” she said. “It was a way he bonded with the kids, over this ridiculous hair he wore.”
Whether it’s his hairstyle, quirky high top shoes or his private collection of toys and blankets at work, it’s all the same to Ms. Katlubeck: “He bent the rules from the time he was born. He was his own person.”
Staying on brand, Andy didn’t want a traditional funeral. Instead, the Katlubeck family will hold a Celebration of Life — a party — for Andy in October. It’ll be filled with his favorite things, such as Doritos and Mountain Dew soda, and be decorated in his favorite color, burgundy. They’re also working on displays to represent his life, and they won’t want for content.
Going through their brother’s Bethel Park townhouse after his passing, the sisters are again struck by the clarity of their brother’s priorities. Nothing there is fancy or new. His car is an old Honda Civic with more than 100,000 miles on it. And there are stacks and binders filled with letters and pictures from patients, commendations from the hospital, and letters relative to his work with the Make-A-Wish foundation. Seemingly, he kept every single one.
Although it’s a sign of progress and health for Brenley, who is now nearly four years cancer-free, it makes Ms. Campieri’s “heart hurt so bad” that they haven’t seen Nurse Andy in quite some time. Brenley’s cancer was so rare and accompanied by such a poor prognosis, they waited to participate in the ceremonial bell-ringing at the end of her treatment. Instead, they plan to do it at the five-year “survivorship” milestone. Nurse Andy was supposed to be a part of that, and Ms. Campieri knows he still will be in spirit.
“Cancer is a journey I wish no one ever knew, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful for it,” she said. “We met the most incredible human beings who mean so much to us, and Andy was undoubtedly one of those.”
Just like Nurse Andy’s presence softened the blow of cancer care ever-soslightly, stories such as Brenley’s now do the same for their favorite nurse’s family.
“This is the hardest thing that my family has ever had to go through,” Ms. Katlubeck said. “There’s a lot of comfort in hearing these stories. He made a difference in so many people’s lives, so many more than I could ever imagine. That’s going to be his legacy, and it’s a pretty damn good one.”