"We are ready to turn off the machines, we know he won't come back, we don't want to prolong this anymore"
Every inch of me wanted to run. Run far away from that room. And yet, as if possessed by another being I calmly asked "Do you want me to stay or would you like this in privacy"
"Stay" they all said simultaneously.
The nurse came in and turned off all the monitors, all the IV drips, everything but the respirator. The family stood at the bedside each member holding a one hand of their dying relative and holding each other's hands forming a complete circle. They stood this way for several minutes, but it might as well have been an hour. Time froze. I looked out the window at the nursing station - the monitor was flat lined. The respiratory therapist came in to turn off the ventilator that kept his chest rising and falling.
I had spent all morning helping to order labs, check vitals, adjust the respiration rate, every little thing I could do to give this person a fighting chance. I couldn't understand how yesterday they'd been completely well, and now today leaving this world.
As soon as the button was pushed, the staff left and the room fell silent. No one moved, we all stared. The chest was still. He was gone. All eyes slowly turned towards me.
"Is he gone?"
"Yes," I replied softly. "He's gone"
The family erupted in tears. The nurse came in with tissues for everyone and she started crying. I held hands, shuffled tissues around, listened to stories and thoughts and feelings. I turned to offer one woman a tissue and she replied: "Oh no I'm trying to stop crying," she smiled through sobs.
I took back the boxes and flipped them upside down so the tissue was no longer accessible.
"Ok, there!" I said smiling.
Everyone laughed. A true genuine lighthearted laugh. Exactly the kind of light humor we all needed in that moment. I then felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Tissue?" a family member handed me a box. I didn't even know I was crying.
I'd never seen someone die before. I always expected death to be dramatic, creepy, eerie. And yet everything felt so natural and calm. As the family slowly trickled out I was alone with the body. I took his hand. I was stunned by the fact that it was still warm, in contrast to my cold shaky hands. I squeezed it tight and whispered "Do know you were very loved? I never met you but I had the privilege of saying goodbye. I hope you are happy wherever you are now."
After everyone left I snuck into a transport elevator and cried for 10 minutes, wiped my eyes, and went back to my clerical work with my face red and eyes puffy. Everyone knew I had been crying, I could feel the stares and tried to ignore them. After bidding the evening staff goodbye I headed home. As I meandered towards my front steps lost in thought I stumbled over a notch in the sidewalk. I look down and see a mighty stalk with flowers growing out of it. With all the crazy weather we'd been having and the Autumn frost, these purple flowers bloomed from a crack in the sidewalk. A new life in the midst of death.
Every inch of me wanted to run. Run far away from that room. And yet, as if possessed by another being I calmly asked "Do you want me to stay or would you like this in privacy"
"Stay" they all said simultaneously.
The nurse came in and turned off all the monitors, all the IV drips, everything but the respirator. The family stood at the bedside each member holding a one hand of their dying relative and holding each other's hands forming a complete circle. They stood this way for several minutes, but it might as well have been an hour. Time froze. I looked out the window at the nursing station - the monitor was flat lined. The respiratory therapist came in to turn off the ventilator that kept his chest rising and falling.
I had spent all morning helping to order labs, check vitals, adjust the respiration rate, every little thing I could do to give this person a fighting chance. I couldn't understand how yesterday they'd been completely well, and now today leaving this world.
As soon as the button was pushed, the staff left and the room fell silent. No one moved, we all stared. The chest was still. He was gone. All eyes slowly turned towards me.
"Is he gone?"
"Yes," I replied softly. "He's gone"
The family erupted in tears. The nurse came in with tissues for everyone and she started crying. I held hands, shuffled tissues around, listened to stories and thoughts and feelings. I turned to offer one woman a tissue and she replied: "Oh no I'm trying to stop crying," she smiled through sobs.
I took back the boxes and flipped them upside down so the tissue was no longer accessible.
"Ok, there!" I said smiling.
Everyone laughed. A true genuine lighthearted laugh. Exactly the kind of light humor we all needed in that moment. I then felt a tap on my shoulder.
"Tissue?" a family member handed me a box. I didn't even know I was crying.
I'd never seen someone die before. I always expected death to be dramatic, creepy, eerie. And yet everything felt so natural and calm. As the family slowly trickled out I was alone with the body. I took his hand. I was stunned by the fact that it was still warm, in contrast to my cold shaky hands. I squeezed it tight and whispered "Do know you were very loved? I never met you but I had the privilege of saying goodbye. I hope you are happy wherever you are now."
After everyone left I snuck into a transport elevator and cried for 10 minutes, wiped my eyes, and went back to my clerical work with my face red and eyes puffy. Everyone knew I had been crying, I could feel the stares and tried to ignore them. After bidding the evening staff goodbye I headed home. As I meandered towards my front steps lost in thought I stumbled over a notch in the sidewalk. I look down and see a mighty stalk with flowers growing out of it. With all the crazy weather we'd been having and the Autumn frost, these purple flowers bloomed from a crack in the sidewalk. A new life in the midst of death.
