Letting death in the room.

Taken by the author. Mukwonago, WI. Oct 2016.

One of the most heart-wrenching things I witness at work is people saying goodbye to their loved ones. Today I watched a husband say goodbye to his wife of 31 years, with their son also present at bedside, weeping as his mother died.

I stay in the room for all terminal extubations, along with the ICU nurse and the respiratory therapist. It's always an emotional thing to witness; I think we all find some kind of unspoken moral support in having each other present, besides the obvious practical needs to be there (RN to give meds, I provide orders/ explain things to the family/pronounce/ask for autopsy, RT weans ventilator and removes the endotracheal tube).

I stood in the room and watched the RN bolus morphine and midazolam...I watched the patient's respiratory rate. I watched her face for signs of struggle, her body for signs of stress. There were none, so we were ready to let her go. I gave the final "ok" to the RT to remove the woman's endotracheal tube, as I thought her respiratory rate and sedation level were adequate so that she would not struggle without the ventilator's assistance (pressure and oxygen). Her sats dropped to the 60s immediately once she was on room air, she developed circumoral cyanosis, and her heart rate was dropping. The medical staff all left the room so the family could alone be with her. She lived for about one hour after extubation, deeply sedated, and died without any struggle. I returned later to pronounce her death (1250) and obtain autopsy consent from her husband. He readily consented and said she would've been an organ donor, if her cancer hadn't prevented her from doing so. He asked "What will your team learn from doing an autopsy?" and I explained the top clinical questions that I thought could likely obtained only via autopsy.


In the moments before the medical team goes into a patient's room to do a terminal extubation, there's often a collective "let's do this" sobriety. As in "This is hard. But, we will do it, and we will do it well." And we do, our team always does. Unfortunately in an oncology/BMT ICU, we are all skilled at helping people die well. And at this point in my career, I'm skilled at that part of my job and proud of it. Not proud in a perverse way, but proud to be able to palliate symptoms of pain, anxiety, and breathlessness in one's last moments of life. Proud that I can help guide families through the emotional agony of watching their person die. Proud that the last images they see of their loved one are peaceful, quiet, calm, well-choreographed. Respectful. Clean. I am grateful that we have the ability to allow people to die without suffering, to serve our patients in this way, to calmly let death into the room after beating it back for so long with our various medications, procedures, life support. We spend hours trying to corral irrational forces (life and death) with rational means (science)--it's almost absurd at times.

But as we let the dying person leave the earth, as their suffering ends, the survivors' suffering begins. Their love wasn't free; now they grieve. All of this had me thinking this afternoon--about love. Whenever we love someone we do it knowing (somewhere in ourselves) that someday one of us will say goodbye to the other. It's an overwhelming thought to ponder for too long. You'd think this would hold us back sometimes, but no. We throw ourselves wholeheartedly into love--loving our partners, friends, children, pets...while knowing that it is all temporary and that this will hurt eventually. Talk about optimism! Humans crave love and connection, we cannot resist it (can we live without it?) even though we know that eventually it is 100% guaranteed to come crashing down around us. Every time.

After every winter, spring...

always comes.

Always.

But my life's progression to "spring" was blocked by an awful behemoth in my path--and I could see glimpses of this thing titled "spring", but I couldn't get there. So it has been a long, long winter, and I have been away from here for a long time. This thing, divorce, loomed in my life for a while, sat in my way, blocked my life and taunted my psyche. It was this big, ugly, hulking, ill-defined beast that sat defiantly between me, peace, happiness, future. It blocked the path between who I was and who I wanted to be...who I had the capacity to be. And avoiding it was causing me to become a person I increasingly disliked. So I introduced myself to it, squared up my shoulders, battled with it, and took it down. I ran, leaped, tripped, yelled, triumphed, paid (tears, money, frustration, adrenaline, fear) and then, officially---it was....over. The ink was dry. And truth be told, the marriage was over long before the divorce was--just as a piece of paper doesn't make you truly married, a piece of paper doesn't make you truly divorced. These pieces of paper simply symbolize what has already taken place in your heart, I believe. And they exist for the protection of property and children. That is all.

The initial months after my ex-wife moved out were a blur of pure relief, loneliness, freedom, calm, financial stress, happiness, and much needed solitude. I never looked back. I never doubted my decision to leave, not one time. I knew I'd done the right thing, as hard as it was to enact. As time passed, I dated a few women, but no one in particular really struck my fancy. I never found anyone who I thought was really special. Nice, kind, smart, attractive? Sure. But that wasn't enough to keep my interest in anyone in particular, and after a while the dating world was....tiresome. I had no real connection with anyone, no real chemistry. The thrill of being single, being free, being wanted, flirting was...getting dull. There I was wandering aimlessly around a romantic virtual world, without any real destination in mind. So I'd delete the app for a bit, roll my eyes, and drink/hang with friends. Onward....maybe someday I'd find someone again, but I sure wasn't in ANY rush--the very last thing I wanted was A Real Girlfriend. I didn't want to be anyone's person--I didn't want the obligations, the expectations, none of that. I wasn't sure I could do that again. Been there, done that, and in some ways----I'd failed miserably. It had been such a tall order before and I'd not measured up....right?

While I dated casually, I also worked to heal myself from the damage that our marriage had caused.  I was in therapy, and I fought to delete the list of ways that my ex-wife had said I'd failed her, failed our marriage, failed our children--all by initiating the divorce, which was the only way to a better life that I knew (after thousands of dollars in marital therapy and two separations). I realized that I had recreated my self-image according to her feedback, not my self-knowledge (or the knowledge of others who really know me)--and I was angry and disappointed in myself for having done so. I had actually believed all of the things she'd told me about me--things she'd said over the years out of anger/need/frustration/hurt, time and time again, as I repeatedly failed to meet myriad unspoken and seemingly mysterious and randomly presented expectations and needs.

I didn't know what was true anymore, and it was terrifying. Was I Person A or Person B? I fought to redefine (rediscover, really) myself for myself, to believe my voice about myself instead of her voice/story about me--and it was impossibly hard at times, and I did not always succeed. Some days were interminably long and painful,  and I worked to feel valuable, attractive, intelligent, worthy of anything--love, respect.  I worked to make eye contact with another human, some days. I worked to summon the energy to go to work, to engage with my patients beyond lab data and physical exam findings. My therapist was my reality check, when I wasn't sure which way was up some days, when I wasn't sure who I was anymore.  She was my mirror through all of this--she showed me the little tiny bit of myself that was still there, that was unchanged, the essence of ME, that was going to be ok--that had always been ok and that always would be--no matter what. Her unwavering belief that I would be ok was steadfast and solid; some days I counted on her belief in me far more than I ever believed in my own ability to be ok. I had to take her word for it. And I did. And some days, it saved me.

Fast forward a few months. The dust had firmly settled. I could see the good in life again. I realized that I am an ok person. I was in a new routine with life, work schedule, kids. I was single. Spring was ...here.. I think? I felt pretty good in my body, my mind, my heart. I'd dated a bit, and it'd been fun. I I was happy, and not seeing my therapist as much. The worst of things was over...life was looking good again. So I opened a dating app, while I was standing in the middle of my kitchen--and I don't know what made me do it, I just... opened it. And there was one of the most handsomely gorgeous women that I'd ever laid my eyes on--my inner dialogue was "Oh my goodness....!", I had a run of a-fib, and I sent her a message. And I wasn't so sure I'd hear back...I mean, she was so damn cute and...I'm just..me. But something about her simply took my breath away. Something.

Well, I heard back. And back. And back some more. And now we're heading into our sixth month of dating and I love her in a way that I didn't think my heart was capable of loving. Nor did I think my heard was capable of receiving such love. I have loved before, and she has loved before--we've been on the planet too long to not have, and the loves we have had have helped craft us into the humans we are today--and for that I am thankful for us both. But I've never loved like this before. It's different; it's more complicated. It's more complete. And I didn't know that this kind of love, this kind of seemingly unconditional love and non-transactional love--the kind of love where someone loves you simply for who you are--not what you do for them, the money you make, what you say or what you look like or what you provide now or could provide or anything else---could ever be a part of my life-I assumed it would forever be beyond my reach, that it wouldn't happen in my lifetime. Thankfully, I was wrong. "BB" suddenly landed in my orbit and I knew that spring had definitely arrived.

To be continued...

ZebraARNP