pronouncing deaths
5 september
as you enter the room, trying not to show your distress too much. as you pull the blanket off his head. as you feel his carotid pulses, as you pull his eyelids open and shine a dim light of life into those huge cavernous depths. as you sit there, your stethoscope over his chest, listening for the beating heart and the waves of breath. as you sit there with your stethoscope in your ears you are suddenly distanced from the wailing wife and daughter. it is just you, your thoughts, and, via that tube - him. as you suddenly have these few minutes, take the time to look at his face, and to think about what it meant to be him. think about his grey hair, his stately face, his thin chest boasting thin ribs. think about his life. and as you think about all this, also think about yourself. were you not flustered when he was wheeled into the emergency room? were you not frustrated when he seemed to complain of every possible symptom. headaches, neck stiffness, cough, chest pain, abdo pain, increased urinary frequency, inability to walk, back pain and numbness in his left foot. why couldn't he walk? surely he was just making that up? wasn't there the slightest hint of malice when you made him walk for you to see? for you he was a pain, an irritation. for him you were the person he had come to for help. for everything you could not understand about him, there were thousands of other things that he was afraid of. would he ever walk again? was he going to live to see his grandchildren being born?
patient unresponsive.
pupils fixed and dilated.
no carotid pulses palpable.
no heart sounds or breath sounds heard on auscultation for three minutes.
patient pronounced dead at 1530.
i'm so sorry.
as you enter the room, trying not to show your distress too much. as you pull the blanket off his head. as you feel his carotid pulses, as you pull his eyelids open and shine a dim light of life into those huge cavernous depths. as you sit there, your stethoscope over his chest, listening for the beating heart and the waves of breath. as you sit there with your stethoscope in your ears you are suddenly distanced from the wailing wife and daughter. it is just you, your thoughts, and, via that tube - him. as you suddenly have these few minutes, take the time to look at his face, and to think about what it meant to be him. think about his grey hair, his stately face, his thin chest boasting thin ribs. think about his life. and as you think about all this, also think about yourself. were you not flustered when he was wheeled into the emergency room? were you not frustrated when he seemed to complain of every possible symptom. headaches, neck stiffness, cough, chest pain, abdo pain, increased urinary frequency, inability to walk, back pain and numbness in his left foot. why couldn't he walk? surely he was just making that up? wasn't there the slightest hint of malice when you made him walk for you to see? for you he was a pain, an irritation. for him you were the person he had come to for help. for everything you could not understand about him, there were thousands of other things that he was afraid of. would he ever walk again? was he going to live to see his grandchildren being born?
patient unresponsive.
pupils fixed and dilated.
no carotid pulses palpable.
no heart sounds or breath sounds heard on auscultation for three minutes.
patient pronounced dead at 1530.
i'm so sorry.
posted by SuperDha at 8:54 am
2 Comments:
ahh, another beautifully written piece about the ultimate issue that we are all running towards and away from. (bop)
so how does it feel dhamma?
what do you think about death now that you've come into contact with it on a number of occasions?
and i'm sorry but i must comment on this tiny, minuscule matter - u said "stately".
on that note, let me move onto the next post to leave a comment so profound, undeniably culturally chic, and so hoonc all at the same wonderful time. how wonderful. how div-i-ne.
D u should read a year of magical thinking by Joan Didion... really truley...
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