For the first time in ages, my guard fell. I did not let down my guard, it just fell, just like that. It fell off at the wrong time and that left me vulnerable. I was not amused because I had to start all over again by picking sharp piercing minute pieces of myself. Up to now, I have not managed to piece me back together. I am broken as can be, I am sure a piece is missing somewhere along the corridors of the hospital, another is with my patient. I will simply have to work hard to grow another piece.
Let me tell you about my day, it started out well. Normal as can be, with this and that to do. Today I had the honor of taking care of a patient with metastasized Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma, don't worry about its origin. Honor because I re-learnt things I always assumed I knew. He is a young man with a young family. Young as in below 60 years of age, above 50 years. That is extremely young if you ask me. I saw him for the first time today morning as I received my report. The first picture that was painted is still imprinted in my memory corner. Weak, in pain despite analgesics, holding on to a thread and yet grateful for little things like me putting up fluids.
Nursed propped up, he has a hard time being comfortable despite attempting many positions. His abdomen is swollen, pressing upwards to his diaphragm, making his breathing not so nice and hiccuping every second he spares to breath out. His prognosis is not good, but he was not displacing( he damn well has a right to) His wife, was a mess. Her eyes red as evidence of crying, their daughter lost on who to comfort, relatives in defeated silence. All eyes on any doctor/nurse who makes their way there, as though they carry with them a miracle/a sign that all will be well.
Any who, I looked at his suffering, his gentle nature and I did not know it till I touched my face. It was wet. I quickly brushed the tear aside lest the relatives, especially the wife, see the hopelessness written in my eyes and on my face. I pretended to adjust the rate of TPNs, to check if this or that was okay. Finally, I took a walk. I do not know what it was with this particular patient, I have seen enough suffering to last a lifetime but always managed to stay away from the sympathy shoe. Empathy is what they advise if not teach, because you have to protect yourself. Each time a patient dies and you let it get to you, you loose a piece of you. Eventually, you get to give away pieces of you that eventually you might be an empty shell.
Bottom line is, I felt such pain for this man, helpless, his family watching him waste away. His wife, trying to be strong but failing miserably, his family scared to death. That deathly silence they had around him was heartbreaking. It was as though they were afraid of talking. Up to now, I cannot tell why or what triggered my emotions, all I know is that I was caught off guard and stripped off my protective armor. I know for sure that a piece of me has gone away, it is gone with my patient. My heart is broken, my spirit defeated and I have questioned the Almighty. "If there was ever a miracle, God now is the time." In my mind, I did say a prayer. Hope, faith and miracles were on my mind too.
The purpose for our life is clear, the reason for our living manifested each day with our achievements and good deeds. This man re-taught me to take not take my health for granted, to appreciate family and to always be grateful to God no matter what the circumstances. I had already 'forgotten' these things. And the price someone else is paying for people like me to remember....Oh how sad.
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