Eyes closed. Anxiety tightening my chest. A slow breath.
Anticipation twisting in my stomach. Warmth brushes past my cheek wrapping around my neck and gently drawing me forth. Pulse racing. Heart pounding. Soft but firm. Pressed against mine. Gentle but purposeful.
This is what he wants. Me.Melting into him, my shoulder relaxes and my arms wrap around him. This is not the time to be thinking of someone else. But I am. What is he doing right now? Would he kiss me like this? Would he hold me just like this?
I bolt up and take a deep ragged breath as my hands rush to my head as if to force the thoughts away.
Not now. It isn't right.
2.20.2007
2.15.2007
Letting Go
I got report and went into his room to do my assessment. Numerous IV lines ran into his arm and central line. A nasogastric feeding tube was tangled amongst the IV tubing. The tape for his endotracheal tube was crusted over with blood and secretions. His hair was matted to his head. There was so little life in him.
I spoke to him. No response. I touched his arm feeling the heat beneath my fingers. His fever was down but still too high. His arms and legs were so swollen my fingers left an indintation. "+3 pitting edema bilaterally upper and lower extremities," I charted. There was no conversation. Just my voice explaining what I was doing. "We need to reposition you, Bill*" All the while I wondered if he could hear me. Was he lost in a dream? Was he already gone?
Gently I pulled an eyelid open and flashed the pen light in his eyes. Brisk pupil reaction with a flutter. That's something new. The only explanation I could find was sedation or possible illegal drug use. I completed my assessment and scanned the chart. I searched for answers that I knew I would not find. One single family member in the city. No family history. Not much medical history. He arrived in the Emergency Department and quickly crashed. They never had time to get much history. No one really knew anything about him. He was just a man that had lived his life in accordance with his own will. Overindulgence of all that made him happy. But was he really happy? High fat, alcohol, and illegal substances... They don't really make anyone happy. They dull the pain. People hide behind them in an effort to escape reality. But reality cannot be avoided forever. Reality had a tight grip on Bill. The reality is, he will most likely not come off the ventilator. He will never really breathe on his own. He will not open his eyes and see. He will not speak.
An hour later I returned to his room to record vitals. I stood there staring at him for a moment. His eyes opened slightly. "Bill? Can you hear me?" No response. "Bill, can you see me?" He blinked. I touched his hand lightly and leaned a little closer to his face. "Bill?" He closed his eyes. The nurse walked in and crushed my hopes. "He's not there." She made an adjustment to the monitor and walked out. I stood there for a moment watching the ventilator breathe for him. Automatically my fingers curled around his hand and my thumb began stroking his hand. Perhaps he was a man that made many poor decisions in his life. Perhaps he had nothing to show for his 50 years of life. But he still has a life. There's still time to change, to make ammends. I wanted to will him back. I wanted him to open his eyes and look at me.
The loud beeping of the IV pump jerked me back to reality. His levophed drip was up. Pharmacy still hadn't sent the next bag up. I silenced the pump and left the room.
While the nurse was yelling at pharmacy, I sat reading through his chart. Looking for answers again. Looking for a glimpse into his life. Looking for a reason to have it all make sense. My eyes scanned over everything... Septic shock... alcoholic... possible acute MI.... fatty liver... elevated platelets... decreased albumin.... cultures negative... no family... no social history...
There was nothing. No answers. Some will say he did this to himself. He made the choices. That doesn't mean we shouldn't treat him. That doesn't mean he isn't worth saving.
We can't save them all. We are not God. I know this. I've seen death. I've watched people slip away, their chests still. There's no silence quite like that of death. For some reason, this case was different. I left the unit feeling cold and empty.
My body was set to autopilot. I just followed the others. The fake me took over. I made simple conversation. On the drive home I realised what it was. He's alone. He has no one. There's no one calling to check on him. No one visiting. No one wondering where he is. No one waiting for him. No one worrying for him. When he passes no one will cry. No one will grieve for him. He will pass away silently and that will be all. The room he's occupied for two weeks will then be empty, cleaned of his presence. He will be a memory quickly forgotten. A life unnoticed.
And there's nothing I can do. I cannot save him. I cannot bring him back. All his memories will die with him. No one will know the things he's seen or done. All I can do is reposition him and hope he's not in pain. Let it be painless. Let it be quick.
*Name changed to protect his identity, though no one knows him.
I spoke to him. No response. I touched his arm feeling the heat beneath my fingers. His fever was down but still too high. His arms and legs were so swollen my fingers left an indintation. "+3 pitting edema bilaterally upper and lower extremities," I charted. There was no conversation. Just my voice explaining what I was doing. "We need to reposition you, Bill*" All the while I wondered if he could hear me. Was he lost in a dream? Was he already gone?
Gently I pulled an eyelid open and flashed the pen light in his eyes. Brisk pupil reaction with a flutter. That's something new. The only explanation I could find was sedation or possible illegal drug use. I completed my assessment and scanned the chart. I searched for answers that I knew I would not find. One single family member in the city. No family history. Not much medical history. He arrived in the Emergency Department and quickly crashed. They never had time to get much history. No one really knew anything about him. He was just a man that had lived his life in accordance with his own will. Overindulgence of all that made him happy. But was he really happy? High fat, alcohol, and illegal substances... They don't really make anyone happy. They dull the pain. People hide behind them in an effort to escape reality. But reality cannot be avoided forever. Reality had a tight grip on Bill. The reality is, he will most likely not come off the ventilator. He will never really breathe on his own. He will not open his eyes and see. He will not speak.
An hour later I returned to his room to record vitals. I stood there staring at him for a moment. His eyes opened slightly. "Bill? Can you hear me?" No response. "Bill, can you see me?" He blinked. I touched his hand lightly and leaned a little closer to his face. "Bill?" He closed his eyes. The nurse walked in and crushed my hopes. "He's not there." She made an adjustment to the monitor and walked out. I stood there for a moment watching the ventilator breathe for him. Automatically my fingers curled around his hand and my thumb began stroking his hand. Perhaps he was a man that made many poor decisions in his life. Perhaps he had nothing to show for his 50 years of life. But he still has a life. There's still time to change, to make ammends. I wanted to will him back. I wanted him to open his eyes and look at me.
The loud beeping of the IV pump jerked me back to reality. His levophed drip was up. Pharmacy still hadn't sent the next bag up. I silenced the pump and left the room.
While the nurse was yelling at pharmacy, I sat reading through his chart. Looking for answers again. Looking for a glimpse into his life. Looking for a reason to have it all make sense. My eyes scanned over everything... Septic shock... alcoholic... possible acute MI.... fatty liver... elevated platelets... decreased albumin.... cultures negative... no family... no social history...
There was nothing. No answers. Some will say he did this to himself. He made the choices. That doesn't mean we shouldn't treat him. That doesn't mean he isn't worth saving.
We can't save them all. We are not God. I know this. I've seen death. I've watched people slip away, their chests still. There's no silence quite like that of death. For some reason, this case was different. I left the unit feeling cold and empty.
My body was set to autopilot. I just followed the others. The fake me took over. I made simple conversation. On the drive home I realised what it was. He's alone. He has no one. There's no one calling to check on him. No one visiting. No one wondering where he is. No one waiting for him. No one worrying for him. When he passes no one will cry. No one will grieve for him. He will pass away silently and that will be all. The room he's occupied for two weeks will then be empty, cleaned of his presence. He will be a memory quickly forgotten. A life unnoticed.
And there's nothing I can do. I cannot save him. I cannot bring him back. All his memories will die with him. No one will know the things he's seen or done. All I can do is reposition him and hope he's not in pain. Let it be painless. Let it be quick.
*Name changed to protect his identity, though no one knows him.
2.11.2007
Runner
I should be a runner. The sound of my soles hitting the pavement. The pounding of my heart with each stride. Panting. Feeling the burn in my muscles as I push on. Further. Sweat dripping. More distance. I could be a great runner.
Everything seems to disappear. The world blends into itself leaving me and the pavement. One quick step after another. I don't have to think. It's just running. I don't have to plan. Run. It doesn't matter where I go. One more step. Further from where I was. Never looking back. Always forward.
Everything seems to disappear. The world blends into itself leaving me and the pavement. One quick step after another. I don't have to think. It's just running. I don't have to plan. Run. It doesn't matter where I go. One more step. Further from where I was. Never looking back. Always forward.
2.04.2007
It's not a date
Seriously. It's hanging out. Yes, he's a boy and I'm a girl but we can still be friends. There's nothing wrong with being friends.
He's nice. I know. "Nice" is like the kiss of death for a guy. That's not what I mean. I don't honestly know where this will go. I'm just enjoying our friendship right now. We have so much in common. He's a paramedic that lives nearby. His taste in music is as ecclectic as my own. What's really great is that we can share medical stories, keeping with HIPAA of course, as well as discuss odd little things about everything. And of course, my favorite show as of late, Grey's Anatomy! How cool is that?!
I've seen a lot of him lately. We're both fans of texting. We do that a bit. But we're not dating. Just friends.
We're planning a trip to the Museum of Science and Industry to see Body Worlds 2. I'm excited. I can't wait to see the next one. He missed the first one so I tried to fill him in on it a bit.
So, I'm happy. I'm single. I'm doing well. This is strange for me. I haven't a clue. I'm just kind of wandering around looking at everything in front of me. Life is full of surprises, twists and turns, dips and dives. I guess the best thing to do is just strap in and hang on. Afterall, it's not the destination as much as it is the journey.
He's nice. I know. "Nice" is like the kiss of death for a guy. That's not what I mean. I don't honestly know where this will go. I'm just enjoying our friendship right now. We have so much in common. He's a paramedic that lives nearby. His taste in music is as ecclectic as my own. What's really great is that we can share medical stories, keeping with HIPAA of course, as well as discuss odd little things about everything. And of course, my favorite show as of late, Grey's Anatomy! How cool is that?!
I've seen a lot of him lately. We're both fans of texting. We do that a bit. But we're not dating. Just friends.
We're planning a trip to the Museum of Science and Industry to see Body Worlds 2. I'm excited. I can't wait to see the next one. He missed the first one so I tried to fill him in on it a bit.
So, I'm happy. I'm single. I'm doing well. This is strange for me. I haven't a clue. I'm just kind of wandering around looking at everything in front of me. Life is full of surprises, twists and turns, dips and dives. I guess the best thing to do is just strap in and hang on. Afterall, it's not the destination as much as it is the journey.
Is that a compliment?
We're driving silently along in the cold dark of the night. The kids are are whispering in the back. Something's coming. I can feel it.
"Auntie Mandy?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Um, you look like Chewbacca with glasses!"
Both explode in a fit of giggles.
"Auntie Mandy?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Um, you look like Chewbacca with glasses!"
Both explode in a fit of giggles.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)