I wrote this the other night, after a very emotional shift. I don't know if you will find it interesting, but wanted to share it with somebody. Last night I .. watched my nursing instructor from 12 years ago die.

I called her sister, I had never met her. "Your sister is doing much worse, you better come to the hospital."
I met her family for the first time. A nice sister that looked a lot like my teacher did before she got sick.
I asked her brother, a priest, if he wanted me to call a priest for the family. Her sister asked to use the phone, I heard her tell her mother, one of her students is taking care of her, she's in good hands.

I learned a little about my teacher that I didn't know before.
I washed my teacher's body, cleaned the tubes coming out of her abdomen.
I changed the chest tube dressing that had saturated her gown and bed.
I put cream on her breast, the one consumed by cancer.
I put a rosary in her hand, and an angel in the other one.
I told her siblings how much I enjoyed having her as a teacher, she was so wonderful.

I hung drips to try to save her life.
I thought about her standing in front of class, lecturing on the GI system as I assessed her abdomen.
I whispered in her ear that I would take good care of her. Only 52 yrs old, she seemed so old 12 years ago when I was a student of 19.
I watched the ventilator, pumping air into her lungs, struggling to ventilate her.

I covered her eyes with gauze, they wouldn't stay shut. I couldn't look at them anymore. Her beautiful blue eyes....so swollen, the swollen sclera oozing out, I couldn't look at them anymore. Was that wrong? I told her siblings it was to keep them moist and protect them, I couldn't look at them anymore, she was gone...dead...not yet, the ventilator pumped 12 breaths into her a minute, while she gasped in between. The powerful drugs forced her heart to beat. Pulse 120......slowly, very slowly, too slowly, it stopped beating... not yet. It kept going. What was she waiting for? The end of my shift? I turned on the TV in her room, put the rosary on. I prayed silently with the TV as I charted. Dr. called, notified of decreased blood pressure despite meds. I told him, she's dying, there's nothing we can do. Start a neo drip, get her blood pressure up. Is he crazy??? She's dying. Slowly, I go get the med he ordered. It wouldn't work, I knew that.

Pulse 48, b/p 60/30. The doctor comes in, "Call the pulmonary doctor." What? She's dying, there's nothing we can do. I call his service, he'll call back.
The doctor still has not gone in the room. Pulse 20, unable to get blood pressure. Asystole. Doctor, she's gone, are you going to go talk to the family?

I clock out and go home, I had already said goodbye.

Bye Mrs. L, thank you for choosing me, out of all the students you've taught, to die with.

Jill, RN


Thank you to Geena, the prime mover at "Codeblog, Tales of a Nurse". You can find her blog and read more of her musings by clicking Codeblog, tales of a nurse.