Angel of Death? The story of Flo.

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02 settembre

Angel of Death? The story of Flo.

I walked into her room and there she lay...broken. Her respirations sound like she's breathing through a snorkel that has a little water caught in the hook. I suction her, gently sliding the tube past her mouth into her trachea...she has no gag reflex. She stares at the ceiling with empty eyes. I believe her soul is fighting to leave her body. Her breathing quiets, for a little while. I have known this woman for about 5 weeks, since she was admitted to our unit. Five weeks ago, she was a pistol. She could walk, talk, and cut her own meat. Three weeks ago, she stopped walking. Two weeks ago, she stopped eating. One week ago, she stopped talking. Her family changed her Resuscitation Level to "Level III"...Comfort Measures Only...Palliative. Her family knows (and she knows) she is going to die here.

As I straighten her blankets, I talk to her...not really knowing if she can hear or understand me (but I believe strongly that she can). Her eyes do not move from that spot on the ceiling. I finish my initial assessment of her heart (still beating strong, due to a god damned pacemaker), her lungs (quickly filling with mucous that she can no longer expel on her own), her abdomen (bowel sounds times four quadrants), her legs and feet (extremely swollen and mottled due to poor circulation). Mottling in the extremities is a sure sign of imminent death...it looks like all the blood is pooling to the bottom of her legs, where they lay against the sheets. Feeling a lump in my throat, and fighting the urge to cry, I take her hand in mine, lean down close to her ear so that only she can hear me, and I say "it's time to go, Flo...whenever you're ready". I give her hand a final squeeze, suction her trachea one more time for good measure, and leave the room to check on my other 5 patients.

Five minutes later, her family arrives to keep their almost-constant vigil at her bedside, waiting for her to take her last breath. Fifteen minutes after THAT, the family rings her call bell, summoning me to her room. On the way there, I grab my stethoscope...I have a feeling I'll need it. Her family members are bawling and holding her hands. The daughter says "Jenn, I think she's gone". I look, I listen, I feel. She is gone. Her eyes are still staring at that spot on the ceiling. Her breath is finally quiet...no more snorkel. I comfort the family, and they are brave and strong and unselfish...letting Flo go to a better place, and understanding her need to be gone from here.

Flo's family hugs me and thanks me for taking such good care of their mother/wife for the last 5 weeks. I feel honoured and humbled. One by one, other nurses and nurse's aides trickle into the room to say their final goodbyes to Flo and to her family. Each one of them gets a hug and a heartfelt "thank you" from the family members. We each have a special story to share with Flo's family about 'back in the day' when Flo would tell us that "I can do it myself! Geez! Why you guys always gotta fawn over me this way!", or "I don't have to eat this crappy hospital food if I don't wanna, I'm a big girl, I can decide for myself!" Ah yes, she was a pistol. But we grew to love her, and she grew to love us. Her family became a fixture at her bedside about 2 weeks ago, and we all grew to love them too. We all said our goodbyes, and left the family alone with Flo to say a final farewell. Then, a few of us gathered in the nurses' report room to "debrief". It seems like after the death of someone we all cared for and knew for so long, we always need to talk to each other, comfort each other, and laugh with each other about when the person was not so close to death.

This was how the first hour of my shift went last night. And THIS, ladies and gentlemen, is why I'm a Nurse.

Jenn OUT...

Quote of the Day: "Death and love are the two wings that bear the good man to heaven." Michelangelo

9.10 | Pubblica su blog | Daily Rant

Commenti (11)

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	CynicalPsychologist ha scritto: Oh, do I see my Annie in you. She was a nurse. RN, BSN, and still working towards her Masters. I accepted an early buyout offer in 2002 to be her caregiver as she had been disabled (indirectly) from an attempt to murder her at the hospital where we both worked. She always kept a positive outlook and spoke her (very bright) mind. I have the Ph.D. but she easily had me by 25-30 IQ points. She also worked hospice care and ICU before going into psychiatric nursing. Thank you for doing what you do. Peace, Doc 25 Set.
	Boomer-Bob ha scritto: Hey Jenn, God Bless you for choosing such an honorable career. You do make a difference in this world, and in the world of others. Truely selfless you are...Peace be with you. Boomer 6 Set.
	JustTina-0906 ha scritto: This post made me cry. I know that Nurses get a bad rap sometimes, but a good one can make all the difference. Sounds like you are one of the good.ones. Tina 4 Set.
	§k¥€M€®Ç€ð€§ ha scritto: Hey Jenn! I know I'm late - I've been a bad blogger! LOL I've got the Blog Walk Topic Up! 3 Set.
	Blaxsta ha scritto: i had to stop reading as with this past year my mum past on after fighting motor neau ron dieasis think i spelt that write anyway that was my mums final week all over again now i made you laugh you made me cry cheers Black will we ever meet online hehehehhe 3 Set.
	Jen ha scritto: That's a really great story Jenn. Sounds like you're an amazing nurse and person and that your team at the hospital is really great too. I'm so glad that you've found a job that you love this much and that you sometimes have experiences which reaffirm that you've made the right decision. There are a lot of people who wouldn't be able to care for your patients the way that you do, either because they're not capable of it, they're sickened by it, or they just don't care, but I'm so glad that there are so many people in the world like you who are loving and caring and giving and take care of us when we're sick. Thank you so much for what you do everyday, even if people don't say it or don't show it, we're all really grateful for you and what you do! :) 2 Set.
	♥-JêN-♥ ha scritto: aww :( I could never do your job.. I'm such a sap 2 Set.
	goodolkatie ha scritto: Tears are streaming down my face, people don't really realize who actually runs hospitals and that is the nurses. When my sister got into her car accident, even in the state of mind that i was in, i remember every single nurse that was in that emergency room helping my sister. You do become part of the family and the love is meaningful. Thank you for that beautiful story. Flo is looking down on you today and smiling. God bless you jenn. kc. 2 Set.
	Pheenix6 ha scritto: My mother is a CNA. Anything in the medical field is tough. I can see through your entry and by the things that my mother tells me about her work how wonderful people like you and her are. She happens to work in the pschiatric ward and has seen many things. Often times she will come home with a card or a little trinket given to her by a patient or a patient's family. She treasures them the same way she treasures the gifts we give her. You are a special person for caring the way you do. Always remeber that. 2 Set.
	dyerslife ha scritto: Damit. You made me cry at work. I don't know how you can do that kind of work. I was thinking that there has to be a positive side or story to make you want to do this, but then this is a positive story when you take the time to look at it from another point of view. Beautiful story. 2 Set.
	drbjaded ha scritto: Seems like a tough job and it must be hard when you are attached to the patients. I couldn't help but get attached to them. Then to have to watch them die. I'm glad that you do something that you love to do. Hope you have a good weekend! 2 Set.

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