Passing

In the field I work, I deal with death and the dying process quite often. Today I felt the touch of a cold hand and the waxy feel of a womans forehead as I kissed her good bye. I have done this several times, probably more than I can count. I have held a hand and said my good byes, or occasionally I have kissed the departed on the forehead depending on how close I was to the person or how much of a connection I developed with them before the inevitable occurred. Today was different. I've always felt a little sad. More for the family left behind than the person who now is resting quietly before me. Today I could not contain my tears. Also a rarity, I hate crying especially in front of people.

I had worked with this woman a few times in recent months as her frequency of admissions became closer and closer together. She had no reserves left in her body to rely on save her will. Even up to this last week her will was like iron. Then it began to rust as she cried inwardly. She knew she could no go on the way she was. No miracle of modern medicine exists that could save her. No matter how diligently we manned the oxygen there was no way to adjust it so she could catch her breath. No amount of breathing treatments or medications would fix the damage done to her body.

From the minute she had her only child, a son, she lived for him. She stayed in a marriage with a man who was less than good to her because he was at least good to his son. She endured cruelty and pain at her spouses hand all for him. When she came in to see us, she would have several sibling visiting her but the first and last person she would ask about was her son. Mind you her son is now grown and more than capable of taking care of himself. Still she held on and struggled to live to be there in case he were to need her, to protect him.

On Saturday I went to work to find her back in the same bed she was discharged from by me on Thursday. I learned she was gone less than 12 hours, the sheets barely had cooled before she was back to lie in them again. Saturday was a struggle back and forth between consciousness and a near coma like sleep. She could not maintain the needed balance between oxygen and carbon dioxide in her blood to stay in either the waking world or that of a lost sole in a coma.

Sunday when I arrived she was still with us, no code had been called.Even if it had we would not have been able to bring her back from the edge. Her heart was showing increasingly tell tale signs of exhaustion throughout the night. She had few choices and none of them good. I told her I wished I had better news to give her. She said bitterly "There is no good news." The choices were the ventilator she would never come off once one and which she had already said absolutely not to. Or, the Bipap (noninvasive mask) to help her but this would only be a temporary option. She is claustrophobic, severely. She turned us down over and over then finally gave us 1 hour to try the mask after 5-6 hours of asking her to please try it. 2 1/2hrs later she was awake enough to tell us no more and she was angry she had been on for more than the 1 hours she had agreed to. She was only awake for 20 minutes of the 2.5 hrs to know she was on the mask. No more mask, no more being uncomfortable. If she was going to die it would be without being scared and wearing a mask or any other thing she didn't want.

Her son was now ready, so was she. He asked of his mother one final favor, one final feat of strength. "Please don't die on my birthday." His birthday was yesterday. She passed after midnight. Until the end she lived for her son.

I too live for my son. I hope I may keep him safe. I do not have the same struggles she had but I feel her same plight of wanting nothing but to be there for her child no matter what. RIP.