I went to work this morning, eager to check in on my one and only patient, Mrs. G. I logged into the MIS system to see if any medications had been administered overnight, but I couldn't find her on the patient census. Suspecting the worst, I went up to her room, only to find her bed empty. And that's when I knew for sure.
Mrs. G passed away in her sleep last night. It was, as they say, expected, but it was still unexpected for me. She was at the end of her nearly three-year battle with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, and we all knew that this would be her last hospitalization. Even so, I believed that she would make it at least through the weekend. But if anything good came out of her stay, it was that we were able to hold a family meeting yesterday to help her loved ones prepare for the inevitable. We scaled back on our interventions to do only what would make her more comfortable. Mrs. G died a dignified and peaceful death, something everybody wishes for, but few actually get to have.
I'm glad to have gotten to meet Mrs. G. I feel like during the two days that I knew her, I learned more than I possibly could have imagined about what it's like to face the certainty of death. I also saw an entire spectrum of how people can react to seeing a beloved family member pass away, ranging from acceptance to relief to hyperintellectualization.
Thank you, Mrs. G, for being part of my life. I am proud to have been a member of the team that took care of you in your final days.
The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.
1 comment:
Sam, I believe that we know your Mrs. G. She was a brilliant woman and her disease was just tragic. It makes me feel good to know that you were giving her care at the end. AND, that she was teaching you. She would have liked that.
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