What Difference Does a Life Make?

I know I don’t talk about work very much.  I like to go, do my job, and leave it there.  Working in a busy emergency department can be (and most of the time is) very stressful.  People have gone from mostly being grateful for what you do for them, to hostile and demanding.  People absolutely hate to wait and want it a minute ago, reflecting what I call a “fast food society”.  Everybody’s “emergency” is more important than the person in the room next to them or the ambulance that just rolled in the back.

 

I’ve become very jaded about my job, but sometimes somebody touches you.  Last night that happened.  This 61yr old man came in complaining of chest tightness and mild shortness of breath.  Bing!  Automatic cardiac workup and admission.  As I settled him into the bed and connected him to the cardiac monitors and applied oxygen I began to question him regarding his symptoms and physical history.  Marathon runner, didn’t look a day over 50.  High blood pressure but doesn’t take anything because the medicines never work (enter appropriate lecture on the effects of high blood pressure on the heart).  Oh, and btw…his wife died yesterday.  She was here at our hospital and was transferred to another hospital across town when it was discovered she had a brain tumor.  Had surgery the first of the month and never woke up or came off the ventilator.  Did I know her?  She was a nurse.  Worked in dialysis and the ICU, not at my hospital but at another one nearby, but she was a patient in our ER and upstairs.

 

You know I just let him talk as I did everything I needed to do.  He told me what a wonderful wife she was while I was sticking him with a needle and starting his IV.  He described what type of mother she was to their two (now grown) sons while I administered medications.  Do I like nursing he asked, because she loved being a nurse?  She loved the variety of patients that came into the dialysis unit and ICU.  She wanted to make a difference.  Is that what I liked about nursing?  His eyes would well up with tears as he spoke of his love and admiration for the woman he shared his life with, and I had to duck my head so he wouldn’t see the tears in mine.

 

This big 6’2 man was like a child in his grief.  Who wouldn’t be in the same circumstance?  You don’t really know what to say because there isn’t anything you can say.  “I’m sorry for your loss” seems totally inadequate.  I didn’t know her, never met her so I couldn’t even join in the reminiscing.  All I could do was listen.  And listen I did for 4hours to this man tell his legacy of love for this woman he chose to be his wife and the mother of his children.

 

Do I want to make a difference?  Yes.  Do I think I do?  Not always, and certainly not every night.  If I can touch just one life I will be happy, but I want it to be more, oh so much more.