Deaths Hand (500 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.66 on 14 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by AlahAckbar (View user info) at 2008-04-06 15:06:56 EDT
There comes a time in every single person's life where they systematically dissect everything that makes them who they are, take a good look at all the pieces that they have assembled in front of them, and decide that they don't like what they see.
For Izzy, this time was yesterday, at about 9 am. Her decision was something that not only rocked me, but the entire hospital.
"I don't want to do this anymore."
So here it is.
At 3 pm today, I am going to cause her to stop living. In less then one hour, my actions, and my actions alone, will end a human life. It won't be the nurses who stand by at the telemetry screens, waiting for her to flat line. It won't be the doctors who have struggled for so long to give her the life that she deserves. It won't be the family, sitting at her bedside, crying quietly, saying their goodbyes.
It will be me. I will walk into the room, say a quiet goodbye, pull the ventilator tubing from her tracheotomy, hold a button on the ventilator for a few moments, and then the alarms will go quiet. Then, I'm supposed to walk quietly out of the room, and go stand next to the nurses and wait patiently. I don't know what I'm going to do.
I met Izzy a long time ago. She has been a long time patient of the hospital I've worked for, coming and going every few weeks, staying longer sometimes then others. COPD is a bitch, and it was taking its toll on our Sara. Eventually, she was intubated one too many times, and became ventilator dependant. Now, her body depends upon this machine to keep her alive, to breathe for her.
You are supposed to maintain a certain distance between yourself and your patients. Everyone in the medical community is. I give no explanation for how I feel about it, how anyone in this place feels about it. She is one of the most loving, caring persons I have ever met, and does not deserve what has happened to her.
What I am going to do. For her.
It is her choice, and she is informed on the consequences of what removing her from the ventilator will do. She has been told hundreds of times in the last 36 hours or so, from the many employees of this hospital whose lives she has touched. Who have come to say their goodbyes.
I have yet to say anything to her. I don't know what to say. I want to break down and cry, like the others have, and are doing right now. I want to tell her that I love her, and I will miss her, and that I will never forget her, and that she has touched my life in a way that no one else could. I want to thank her for all those times when I was having a bad day at work, how she would listen to me, and make me feel better. I want to tell her how she was more then a patient, how she was like a mother to me, always there, always helpful, always watching over me, making sure everything was ok. I want to thank her for all the help she's given me, how her advice has saved my marriage, how
All these things will be repeated over and over by my fellow employees over the next half an hour, to the point where she will probably know what I want to say before I say it.
So what do I say? What do you say to a person who has changed your life, saved your marriage, has had an impact that is so profound that it cannot be measured?
What do you say when you are about to take away the only thing keeping them alive?
I've just returned from our Intensive Care Unit. There are a hundred people or so in there, all wanting to say their goodbyes, wanting one last hug. I spoke with her nurse, who only snapped at me the answer to my unasked question "Nothings changed."
As is usual with these situations, because I am actually the one taking her off the ventilator, the staff blames me, seeks me out as the root of their pain. I can feel their eyes boring into my skull, whispered hisses of hatred, names.
These will all be forgotten in a week's time, after they have had time to digest what is going on. It is something that has happened before, and will happen again. I will listen, as they explain "I was just so upset.... And you... you" and I will interrupt them, saying "I understand... its ok... Don't worry about it...."
Meanwhile the last gasping breaths of these people's lives still occasionally haunt my dreams.
It is getting closer now. 10 till 3. Izzy has 10 minutes left in her life. I've vomited twice. I glance out the window of my office, to the throng of people outside, smoking. They all have the blank stare of someone hurt, but unable to do anything about it. They cannot blame Izzy, so they sit outside my office, watching me type this, cursing me. Again, it is understandable, acceptable, and expected.
5 minutes now. I place my stethoscope around my neck, attach my beeper to my shirt, slide my pen into my pocket. How will I return to this computer? Will I be a wreck? Will I be unable to finish this? Will I vomit again, either on the way down to perform my grisly task, or on the way back up? I didn't choose my profession for this! I wanted to help people, not kill them! I don't want to do this! I don't want to be her grim reaper, walking into the room, saying "It's time, Izzy... Just relax, this will only take a moment, Yes, Izzy, death will come fast. No, I don't think it will hurt, just try to relax as best you can. That's good. Just close your eyes, and ignore the bells and whistles as you die...." I don't want to be her grim reaper.
But I am.
Your Time is short, Izzy. For I am death's hand, and I am coming.
I walked into the ICU, and the people around me hushed, as they always do. The family tried to smile as they left her room, one placing their hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. I nodded, expressing my condolences. I've told them all what was going to happen prior to this moment, so they are informed. They leave the room, some of them crying softly, one weeping openly. I shut the door behind them.
I stand in the doorway, staring at Izzy, and she stares right back. She waves me over, calling to death to come take her. But I don't move. She waves again. I approach her, slowly, tears staining my face. She opens her arms, and I hug her..
"I'm gonna miss you, Izzy.... I ...." She pushed me away, motioning for me to stop. She picks up her board, and writes "its ok, everything will be ok. I'm gonna miss you too. All of you. But it's time. I best be hitting the road......"
I smile a bit, as she always said that when she would leave the hospital. Then I would say:
"Don't come back and see us too soon, ok?"
And she would say "why, don't you like me?"
And as she mouthed this to me, she reached up, and pulled her vent tubing off.. She gave my hand a squeeze and I silenced the alarms. I stood, waiting a few moments, not sure what to do. She smiled at me, and, grabbing her pen, scribbled a note. She folded it, and handed it to me.
I opened the note, and scribbled there, were the words "Name the baby after me, huh?"
I smiled, lifted my head, to tell her of course, but she had already rolled over, aligning herself in her favorite sleeping position. I folded the note, put it in my pocket, and walked out of the room.
As I approached the doors out of the ICU, a flat line alarm sounded.
User Reviews
Submitted by AlahAckbar (user info) at 2008-04-08 15:21:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Lib (user info) at 2008-04-07 13:26:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
My father just died 2 weeks ago from COPD, thank the gods we never had him hooked up to a respirator.
I've seen people who should have never been put on a vent put on one, and people who should have been put on a vent not....
I hope you are doing well. You made the right decision.
Submitted by Brdn_Nkd (user info) at 2008-04-07 14:52:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Lib (user info) at 2008-04-07 13:26:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
My father just died 2 weeks ago from COPD, thank the gods we never had him hooked up to a respirator.
Submitted by AlahAckbar (user info) at 2008-04-07 13:25:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
My home town is not a sewer, Schlongy. I find that to be highly insulting.
It's a cesspool. Calling it a sewer implies that there is some form of forethought or planning. People pretty much just take dumps in the streets.
Submitted by LittleMonster (user info) at 2008-04-07 07:16:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2008-04-06 20:32:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
What's going on in upstate NY?
I read the D & C online every day and Roch looks like a sewer these days.
Submitted by monkeyswithguns (user info) at 2008-04-06 20:26:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Banjo (user info) at 2008-04-06 20:25:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Holy shit....
Submitted by spyder882001 (user info) at 2008-04-06 19:25:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2008-04-06 19:10:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-04-06 15:54:47 CDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't know how many here understand what COPD stands for. My wife has it, along with a few other medical issues. When the Pulmonary MD told us what COPD was, I had to leave the room. My Grandmother died from lung cancer (she never smoked) and we basically watched her die of suffocation.
that sucks dude.
but then I'm sure you already know this.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2008-04-06 16:54:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I don't know how many here understand what COPD stands for. My wife has it, along with a few other medical issues. When the Pulmonary MD told us what COPD was, I had to leave the room. My Grandmother died from lung cancer (she never smoked) and we basically watched her die of suffocation.
Submitted by beer-turtle (user info) at 2008-04-06 15:43:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
for evoking emotional response in me
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2008-04-06 15:25:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by icarus1987 (user info) at 2008-04-06 15:23:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
If it were ME, I would have ended it on an upnote. You know, it turns out she doesn't have cancer, she was just choking on a tic-tack or something. Then you could take her out to the GAP where she'd hit on all the hot boys, not realizing they're gay, because she's old and senile, and old senile people are by default awesome comic relief.
But you chose instead to be consistent, and I respect that.