Written Jan 17, 2012 at 6 pm, Doctor's Callroom
Just a few hours ago, we were discussing a patient admitted at our ward and laughing at how cute she was. She was toxic, yes, but cute. She would complain of difficulty breathing which would magically disappear everytime her resident in charge (RIC) comes to see her. She was a controversial case at the ER and we have a lot to say about how she was managed there but the gory details are not the things I'd like to emphasize here. Let's just say she was a homeless lady brought to the ER by a kind hearted soul who took pity on her. She was refered to our service because of behavioral changes and was eventually admitted at our ward as a social emergency as the social workers could not locate her family. She's been here for about a couple of weeks now and her RIC, as well as the hospital social worker, has managed to find a shelter for her. She was awaiting medical clearance before she would be conducted to the institution that was to be her new home.
Unfortunately, God has other plans for her. She was refered to me for unresponsiveness and when I came down to the ward, the code team has been called. She was intubated and was given 4 doses of epinephrine. She had no family te be with her during her last breath. I imagined my mom or my dad in the same situation and my heart broke. To be dying and be surrounded by strangers. Her death was eventually pronounced and the hospital chaplain was called.
The priest was an elderly Italian-looking fellow who made my junior resident on duty spell out the patient's name to him for about 5 to 7 times before he probably decided to just come over and copy it from the chart. I must say, he was the picturesque character perfect to complete the mini-teleserye that was this patient's case. An Italian monseigneur to bless a lady who believed she was a Donya. After saying a mini-sermon of sorts, in heavily accented Tagalog, he declared that in his 17 years of service to the hospital, this was his first time to recieve a call from the Psychiatry Ward. And then he thanked us for remembering that his kind of healing was also important.
So that was her farewell ceremony. Three doctors, 2 nursing attendants, a couple of interns and an old priest in attendance. She was wrapped in hospital linen like a mummy. And Psychiatry Ward Seven eerily suspended all forms of psychosis for about 15 minutes. This isn't the first time we've had a mortality at our ward, despite people saying that there are rarely any deaths here. But this was the first time I felt strange following a patient's death. Even when they were trying to revive her, the rest of the ward seemed suddenly silenced. It was as though even those who have been swallowed into worlds of their own, normally unmindful of the goings-on of this world which they have judged unacceptable, suddenly recognized a solemnity that demanded some form of respect. I don't know if it was just me.
And there's something about a person's passing that leaves one thinking. Something almost tangible that's in the air.
Earlier today she was vying for attention from the staff. She was requesting her RIC to never leave her side because allegedly, her symptoms disappeared whenever he was near (hahaha! kamandag ang tawag diyan!). She had a wheelchair ride around the ward from the nurses who took turns.
She was smiling today.
She was homeless.
And all because her admitting resident decided he doesn't have the heart to put her back into the streets where she was found, she died in a bed, clean and bathed and clothed, instead of in the gutters.
She was blessed by a priest and her body was cleansed and properly attended to.
She made friends with the people here, I assume, and contributed much learning to the residents in training (kailangan ko lang i-mention for more drama!).
But, despite the suddenness of it all, I do believe she died happier than she otherwise would have been.
And for that alone, I'd say we've already done more healing than we've intended to.
Yun lang sharing... :)
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