It struck me, how ignorant most of us are about death. We tend to pretend the word doesn't exist, especially when we're still fit and healthy, or even when we're not so healthy.
Yet in hospital, medical staff have to deal with death at such a regular basis.
I don't think anyone ever gets used to seeing death. Much less doctors, who have the unfortunate task of being the one certifying someone's death and having to carry the burden of informing relatives about the death of their loved one.
I personally have tagged along with a doctor to certify the death of a patient. It was 2 years ago when it happened, but I still remember it like it happened yesterday. I'll try to give a first hand and honest account of what happened:
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"The intern (first year medical graduate) and I walked into the room. The patient was lying peacefully on his bed. The wife and son (in his mid 30s) sat by his side. The wife was holding his hand, learning her chin onto his chest, eyes staring at his peaceful face. There were 3 nurses in the room, but they were unusually quiet. Pin-drop silence.
We walked to the bedside, and I stood silently too, while the intern politely asked the wife for permission to examine the patient. She nodded, and reluctantly moved away for the intern to examine him, yet her hand was still holding on tight to him. The intern examined his heart, and eyes. She stepped back, and took a deep breath.
Silence.
The intern opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Silence.
Finally, the intern spoke.
"I'm sorry Mrs _____, we have tried our best. There is nothing else we can do."
Silence again.
Then it all happened at once. The wife weeped. And weeped.
"Don't leave me, you promised that you will never leave me!! I love you so much! We still have so many things to do together!!" ....*cries*....."(speaks Italian)..."....*cries*...."I LOVE YOU!!! I LOVE YOU!!! DON'T LEAVE ME!!!"
The son weeps.
2 nurses weep too. The eldest nurse tried to hold on, but eventually turned her back and sobbed in silence, her face hidden from sight.
I looked at the intern. She was strong. She had an empathic look on her face, but no tears. I said to myself, Jazzi, you must be strong too. You will be a doctor, and you will need to be a pillar of support for the relatives of the deceased, as well as the medical staff here.
The intern asked the wife and son if they needed time alone with the patient. They said yes, and we left the room, promising to be there whenever they needed us.
I went to the restroom. And tears couldn't be held back anymore. They overflowed."
(I later found out that the intern weeped at home that night. It was her 2nd certification of death that week)
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I dread the day when I'll be the one certifying my patient's death. But I must be strong, I must be strong.
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I think a picture paints a thousand words. Here are some pictures, just to give us all a perspective on death of a loved one.
Here are some more light hearted cartoons just so we don't leave this blog ending on a sad note....
