The End, Through The Eyes Of A Critical Care Nurse


 
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By Lauren Bever, RN 

On the day you die from COVID, many things will happen

A colleague and I will enter the room to carefully prepare and clean your body.

We will shut off all the IV pumps.

We will turn off the ventilator.

We will silence and turn off the monitor that is screaming at us that something is terribly wrong.

We will remove the breathing tube from your throat.

We will pull out the intravenous lines.

We will remove the arterial line that monitored your dangerously low blood pressure.

We will remove the catheter that drained your bladder and measured as your urine output gradually decreased to nil.

In the end, they will leave the room, and it will be just you and I.

The machines will be turned off.

The beeping will have stopped.

The alarms will be discontinued.

The room will be silent for the first time in days.

I might have music on, if your family told me what you like to listen to. I’ve listened to all kinds of music at the end.

Classic Rock. Big Band. South American flutes. Chinese ballads. Country and Western.

Today it was the Beatles.

“Yesterday … all my troubles seemed so far away … Now it looks as though they’re here to stay … Oh, I believe in yesterday …”

I’ll cover your body with a sheet and try to position you so that you look as natural as possible.

I’ll dial the phone number or open the video chat, and your family will pop up.

They will see you and begin sobbing uncontrollably.

They will tell you that they love you.

They will question their God.

They will tell you that they don’t know how they will go on without you.

They will thank you for being a great partner, great spouse, great child, great friend, great person…

They’ll put the dog up to the camera so you can “see” them one more time.

Old grudges will be forgiven or put aside.

I will be privy to family secrets and skeletons that nobody else knows about.

I’ll never breathe a whisper; your secrets are safe with me.

I will listen silently as they beg and weep and plead and grieve.

I will close my eyes tightly at the scream that signifies pain so raw and deep that it stings even my numb and burned-out heart.

I will try to hold back the tears that gather in my own eyes as I empathize with the pain your family is feeling.

I will fail.

I will cry silently too.

I will wait patiently until their tears have slowed and they have told me that they are ready.

I will hang up the phone or shut off the video.

I’ll sigh to myself as I start to clean up.

The bag that your battered body lies in won’t be zipped up yet.

I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t believe in zipping up the bag until I’m ready to leave the room.

I can’t bring myself to clean your room while you lie there inside a dark zipped-up bag, ignored because you no longer breathe.

So, I’ll take down the drips.

It will take me a while.

You’ll have been on a lot of drips.

Sedation.

Pain medication.

Fluids.

Pressors.

Anti-anxiety medications.

A blood thinner.

I’ll take them all down and puddle the lines on the floor while I dispose of the excess contents.

I’ll gather the unopened supplies in the room and begin throwing them in the trash.

The new cardiac electrodes that don’t need to be placed on a chest that no longer has a beating heart.

The pulse oximeter that would read “zero” if I were to attach it.

The oral care kit that we used to try to prevent you from getting a secondary infection in your lungs.

The bags of dialysate that were used in a valiant attempt to preserve your kidneys.

The tubing that was attached to the ventilator to breathe for you.

The numerous pictures and cards that your family dropped off at the front desk of the hospital for us to hang in your room for encouragement and support.

All of it will go in the trash.

Nothing can be salvaged from a COVID room.

I’ll tidy up the many caps that have found their way onto the floor.

Caps from IV flushes. Caps from medications. Caps from IV tubing. Caps from respiratory equipment.

Caps that were opened and discarded so quickly as we worked so feverishly that they’ve long since been forgotten and relegated to the floor.

Finally, I will be done cleaning.

I will stroke your hair. I will hold your hand. I will position you, so you look comfortable.

I will wonder why you didn’t get vaccinated.

Fear? Conspiracy? Misinformation? Just never got around to it?

It doesn’t matter now.

I will look into your face one more time.

I will zip the bag.

I will leave you in the room to be transported to the morgue.

You, however, will never leave me.

Memories like this are not ever forgotten.

Because in the end, on the day you die from COVID, it will be just you and I.


 
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COMMENTS

  • Thank you for this message - it helps me to feel sadness instead of anger and frustration for the unvaccinated. The author is the epitome of what a nurse should be.

  • Susan Baxter, RN

    September 22, 2021 00:36 37

    Thank you for this beautiful and touching account of the end of Covid-19 suffering. I feel that this needs to be shared with every unvaccinated person in the USA. Perhaps this end of life story might get through to those who have not received the Covid-19 vaccine for whatever reason. This has certainly touched my heart ❤️

  • Shawanda Bennett

    September 20, 2021 10:34 25

    As I read this article I envisioned myself in this situation a few days ago 😞. Every line I read I saw myself along with my coworkers laying someone's loved one (my patient) to rest doing the exact same thing step by step as it read in this article.

  • There is nothing more to say. Nowhere else to go forward.No one listens to me. Their rationale is so skewed?

  • Well, maybe if someone in medical establishment had balls to stand up for early treatment… -people vax or not- most do not need to die from Covid. There are multiple strategies and treatments that can and DO work if started EARLY!!!! Instead you’re sending people home with no help and essentially telling them to come back when they are DYING!! It’s like telling a stage I breast cancer patient that you can’t do anything, to go home and come back when the cancer is stage IV, THEN you’ll go through some pointless ‘lifesaving’ motions. And there are lots of shortages brought on a) by how hospitals/insurance run and b) staffing shortages because of vaccine mandates!!!! Covid is revealing faults in our healthcare machine, it is NOT the cause. And NO, socialized medicine is not the answer. Some integrity is in order here throughout every sector of medicine. We went into this profession to help people and save lives and withholding treatment is opposite of that, so is removing freedom of choice- where does that end and begin??

  • Well, maybe if someone in medical establishment had balls to stand up for early treatment… -people vax or not- most do not need to die from Covid. There are multiple strategies and treatments that can and DO work if started EARLY!!!! Instead you’re sending people home with no help and essentially telling them to come back when they are DYING!! It’s like telling a stage I breast cancer patient that you can’t do anything, to go home and come back when the cancer is stage IV, THEN you’ll go through some pointless ‘lifesaving’ motions. And there are lots of shortages brought on a) by how hospitals/insurance run and b) staffing shortages because of vaccine mandates!!!! Covid is revealing faults in our healthcare machine, it is NOT the cause. And NO, socialized medicine is not the answer. Some integrity is in order here throughout every sector of medicine. We went into this profession to help people and save lives and withholding treatment is opposite of that, so is removing freedom of choice- where does that end and begin??

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