"Is it ok if I turn on the smooth jazz station?"
"Of course" she says. "I can't believe that they got rid of the oldies station" I say, as we gown up. Double gloves, plastic gown. "Yeah, what a fucking bummer" she says. as we head in and start our work.
"How was your day?" my husband asks? We are on a rare date night. He is trying to be nice and inquisitive. "Fine" I say. "you know, sick guy, mourning family, trying to keep him going so he makes it through this. My other patient was stable though, transferred him out in the afternoon. pretty good day I guess."
0900 that morning. I see this guys heart rate in the 30s. He was put on comfort care the day before. I know it's time. I go to his room and the chaplain and his nurse are there. He is taking his last breaths. I go to him and hold his hand and stroke his hair. I hum under my breath. He dies as we surround him, blinds closed. I kiss his forehead. He looks peaceful finally. He had been struggling to breath over the past few days. The monitor is turned off.
"So what else happened today?" He is fishing for conversation. It is a couple hours later and there is a break between bands. He wants to be interested in my work and ask the right questions. "Well..." I think about my day. I don't think about work when I am not there. It may be a self-protection mechanism, but really, I am able to leave it behind usually. You do the best you can, and know that most things are not in your control. "Oh yeah, this morning when I came in, I was with this man as he died. It was peaceful. I held his hand, and then helped his nurse with the body." My sweet husband of 8 years looks shocked. I can see it on his face. he is thinking "I just asked you earlier how your day was and you said "fine", this is not fine." He is speechless and looks almost betrayed. I don't have any words for him. I don't know why this even didn't come to me right away when he asked. It was just part of my day.
We go in and start to wash the body. I always need some background music to take away the awkwardness. I have goose bumps the whole time. It is not natural to clean a body. I go piece by piece, trying not to take in the whole situation. A foot, the leg. an arm, nose, an eye. "Look at his feet!" I marvel. He has small, perfectly clean manicured feet. Very rare in this institution. They gleam white, without blemish. "Yeah" she says "who would have thunk..." She looks pointedly. "Jesus Christ" I say laughing under my breath. And I do give a conciliatory nod. Noting that indeed, this old guy is fairly well endowed. Leave it to her to state the obvious. However, the blood caking his lips takes away from the picture. We finish cleaning him, take out the foley and his IV's and wrap him in plastic. She doesn't like to bind hands and feet with silk tape, so I just put on the toe tag. We call for escort and drape his body with the American flag as we wait. They take him away to the morgue. And I give meds to my other patients.
"How can you do that?" My husband and friends ask. "You do what you have to I guess." I reply. "Doesn't it bother you and keep you up at night?" "Not really. I guess if I really fucked up and hurt someone it would." They question me about families and the emotional turmoil. I tell them that I do the best I can do, and try to be present for all of the situations I may have to face. I remember talking to a daughter in Germany, telling her that I would take her place, and be there as a daughter when he passed. Telling spouses that I will care for this patient as if he was my own father. Acting as a angel of death as I bolused morphine when a patient is struggling to breath, as his family looked at me in with terror in their eyes. Saying prayers with families as tears cascaded down my face.
"I am calling about my Uncle, Mr so and so. I wanted to see how he was doing." "Oh" I reply slowly. "Have you talked to your Aunt? Umm, your Uncle was very sick, and I am sorry to say.." Horrible silence. "Is he dead?" "Yes, he just passed." I state, trying to be sensitive. "Thank you for taking care of him..." He starts to wail in the background. sobbing heartbreaking sobs. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Good bye" he says and hangs up. It is 1000, I answered the phone for her when she went to smoke. I breath deeply and sigh a little. I hear and alarm go off and figure I should check on it. Just another "no big deal" experience to have. I guess.
