The Long, Hard Fight

My patient passed away at 2:15 this morning. Yes - that's right, 11 hours after life support was turned off. It just makes me wonder. It seems as though he fought it to the very end. My only wish for him is that he didn't suffer. We tried to keep him comfortable with morphine and lorazepam. How comfortable could he honestly have been? I don't know. Everyone was subdued in the ICU this morning. I walked in at 8:00 and the janitor was scrubing the room. The nurses who had come on shift were just standing and staring at him. It was eeriely quiet. I took a moment to reflect on him and hope that he really was in a better place. His granddaughter's hand drawn pictures were still hanging on the wall in the room. They wished him a speedy recovery and told him how much she loved him. I got a little emotional thinking about it.

The highlight of my day occurred at 9:45 this morning. I was returning to my office from the inpatient pharmacy, when a crippled African American man asked me to hold the elevator for him. When he got in the elevator, he asked me where 1A-171 was located. I told him I wasn't sure, but that I'd help him find it. I escorted him around the first floor until we found his location. When I departed him, he thanked me repeatedly and said, "God bless you." He made my day. :)