Three Generations of CRNAs, One Shared Purpose

Some families pass down stories. Others pass down precious jewels or family photographs. In one south Floridian family, their most meaningful inheritance is less tangible, but far more enduring—a shared sense of responsibility for the lives placed in their care. 

The Gonzalez family’s story begins in a place most people never see: at the head of the operating table, just beyond the surgical field, where everything depends on the person standing watch. 

In the 1950s, long before monitors traced vital signs, Ana Gonzalez, CRNA, was a pioneer in a field that was still defining itself. As a Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist (CRNA) in the era of open-drop ether, she stood behind the blue drapes and observed her patients with an intensity that left no room for distraction. Ana had no machines to guide her, only her ability to observe the rise and fall of a chest and the rhythm of a pulse beneath her fingertips. 

It was medicine distilled to its most essential elements: knowledge, instinct, and the utmost vigilance.

Ana learned to read what couldn’t be displayed. From subtle shifts in the patient’s color to the changes in breathing, she was especially attuned to noticing faint changes that signaled the patient’s status. It was a level of attentiveness that demanded complete presence. 

That way of practicing didn’t disappear with time. It’s foundational to the nurse anesthesiology profession, and something Ana would instill in her son, Richard Gonzalez, DNP, CRNA, and granddaughter, Kailey Gonzalez, DNP, CRNA. 

“However much the field evolves,” Richard said, “you always come back to the basics: you have to know your patient fully without being told.”

For Richard, the profession was never an abstract concept.  He grew up watching his mother carry the responsibility of safeguarding patients during surgery, and he can still recall the exact moment he decided to take it on as well. 

He had been volunteering at his mother’s hospital when she got called for an emergency. 

“She told me to get up, and suddenly we’re running down to the ICU,” he said. “Out of nowhere, she had intubated the patient in seconds.” 

What stayed with him wasn’t just her speed, but her skill and certainty. 

“Seeing the way she worked and moved with no hesitation… It clicked for me in an instant,” he said. “It wasn’t just what she did, but what it meant in the grand scheme of things. It was the responsibility she carried.” 

Years later, that responsibility became something they shared. 

“We worked hand in hand for about five years,” he said. “After that, I took over her practice.”

Those years were defined by more than just proximity. It was five years of shared workspaces, shared patients, and a shared understanding of the beauty of the profession. Richard recalled his time working with his mother with reverence and joy. 

“Now everything I do every single day reminds me of her. We’ll always be connected through anesthesiology.” 

 When Kailey entered the field as a newly graduated CRNA in January 2026 Open-drop ether had long been replaced by integrated machines, advanced simulation labs, and continuous monitoring systems that offered a level of precision earlier generations could only infer. 

“I remember having to physically take an end tidal CO2 machine from one room to the next,” Richard said. “I have to spend hours keeping up with research that she was taught in school.” 

For Kailey, that level of technology is simply the environment she trained in. 

“The technology for anesthesia has changed so much,” she said. “It’s so much more precise now. With all the information at our fingertips, the work has become more complex, but also so much safer.” 

And yet, when she speaks about what matters most, her perspective echoes her father’s. 

“The core of it is still the same and I think it always will be,” she said. “It’s caring for patients and providing the best care that you can when they’re in this very vulnerable situation.” 

As a third-generation CRNA, Kailey carries a sense of pride and an awareness of the legacy behind her. 

“Some people are lucky to have one role model,” she said, lighting up with a proud smile. “I get to have two.” 

She continued, “I hope, one day, one of my kids sees the passion my dad and I have and want the same thing. Maybe there’s a fourth or fifth generation of Gonzalez CRNAs—who knows!”

One thing Kailey does know is where her CRNA path will take her. 

“I’m working in a hospital setting now. I’m seeing everything and getting experience,” she said. “But my main goal is to work with my dad one day and learn all of his tips and techniques, just like he did with his mom.” 

As Kailey begins her career, she carries more than just knowledge and training. She carries the presence of her father and grandmother: their lessons, their love of the profession, and their understanding of what it means to be entrusted with a life. 

The tools have changed and technology has advanced, but the scene remains the same: a patient places their trust in someone they’ve only just met. The surgical procedure begins. And, at the head of the table, a Gonzalez is standing watch, keeping the patient safe and pain free. 

In that moment, the distance between generations feels small. 

Over 70 years of practice, the Gonzalez family’s legacy has grown alongside the profession itself. For them, their heirloom was never something tangible. It’s something you step into, one patient at a time.