Wednesday, November 07, 2007


Last breath


Stepping into the room, he was just another patient. Semi-conscious, hooked up on nasal prongs, cachexic. It was just another visit. Another case.

Placing her fingers on the wrist, the nurse felt for the pulse. A slight pause. The fingers shift. She looks up. Gesturing to his chest, she says simply:

"He stopped breathing."

Stunned silence.

This is palliative care. The patient is expected to pass away. But not expected to pass away in front of us.

It seemed like an eternity. Then he started breathing again. Laboured gasps of air.

The pulse was located. The blood pressure was taken. The urine was checked.

"He is leaving. Ask your mother to come in and stay by his side. You want to call your relatives?"

All said with the calm and composure of training and experience. All received with seeming calm and composure. Or the numbness of denial, surprise, resignation and acceptance all rolled together.

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And when the time comes, will you have the confidence to say, "Time of death, ___ hours"; the courage to say, "I'm sorry, he is gone"; and the conscience to say, "We have done our best"?

And as the years roll by, will I still be human enough to feel?

posted by nwxiang at 12:12 AM |


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# posted by Blogger suhan : Friday, November 09, 2007 5:17:00 PM
 
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