This weekend I took care of a man who had been through a roller coaster hospital admission. It took multiple heroic measures to save him. He had exhausted the minds of our best cardiologists and cardiothoracic surgeons and had been stabilized, but then we discovered over a dozen strokes in his brain - including his brainstem - and his chance of meaningful recovery is nil. The official prognosis is "grim." There was a long talk with his family and they were adamant that he would not want a trach and a feeding tube and to live unaware in a nursing home.
They got the news Saturday and I spent Saturday night listening to his wife process through her grief. I didn't need to say much because she filled all the silences. She told me about their marriage and raising their kids together and their plans for future vacations and after retirement. She would talk to him and then turn to ask me, "What am I going to do?" and honestly, there is no question I wish I could answer more. Except maybe "What's going to happen?" I get that one a lot, too. He was not hard to care for, but I was emotionally exhausted by the end of my shift.
He's only sixty years old. They thought, reasonably, that they would have another twenty years together. It was one of those nights that made me want to hug everyone I love and it kept me from being too annoyed with A for leaving my gas tank on empty this morning. I am such a difficult, critical person and really, my judgment and criticism is so NOT important in the grand scheme of things. I wish I didn't get these reminders so often. At the risk of being dramatic or heavy-handed, I am telling you, because maybe you are like me and need these reminders.
Life is short, sometimes shorter than we think.
Okay! To break the sadness, I will offer to challenge you to a competition. How many anuses did YOU have your fingers up this weekend? Unless you were part of an orgy or are a weekend-working proctologist: I WIN. There, now most of us are a little nauseous and the medical people are mentally recounting their grossest stories.
I have read your blog so long. I guess that I qualify as a lurker.. I just want to say that every single time I read your blog that you touch in me in some small way... there are many times that I think-- wow, I wish she lived nearer to me (I live in CA, and am married to an Andrew, but I am a teacher and blood totally grosses me out, oh, and I have two boys)... but you are amazing. Thank you for the job you do. As someone who teaches and works in an often thankless profession, I appreciate your insight and your grace...
Posted by: Emily | October 24, 2011 at 10:18 PM
no anuses but i squeezed a lot of boobs.
Posted by: Liz S | October 24, 2011 at 11:27 PM
Thank you; you were right to post - this is such an important reminder. Every moment is so precious. xoxo
hope you have an easier day today.
Posted by: el-e-e | October 25, 2011 at 08:52 AM
Are you sure you win? Are you only counting human anuses?
Posted by: Christine | October 25, 2011 at 06:55 PM
Thanks for this, and thanks for what you do. After a grueling morning at my son's school, learning of all the heroic things they're doing for him that are not working, and feeling like a failure as a parent, it is good to have something that puts it all in perspective. He's alive, we're alive, he delights us on a daily basis and is smart as a whip, there are many things left to try (including medication, which is probably where we're headed) ... and I have touched NO anuses today, not yet anyway. Though I have rubbed antibiotic ointment on one scrotum.
Posted by: Heidi | October 25, 2011 at 08:33 PM