Judy Hamilton
12th August 2007, 03:42 AM (03:42)
Hello,
I am Judy your nurse. I will be watching over you tonight.
“I hope you are an angel
Cuz’ I need angels watching over me right now!” she looked up with pleading eyes replying in short staccato breaths.
I quickly assessed her lungs, checked the IV site, adjusted the oxygen blasting into her nose and glanced at the numbers on the monitor over her bed. The concerned man at her bedside was perhaps her husband. It was difficult to discern as a long history of heart failure had ravaged her young body. At 28 she looked very old. Just prior to my shift her physician visited with her and her family. They were all in agreement. In case of death, my little patient was not to be resuscitated. I was grateful to not have been privy to this most difficult physician-patient consultation. When I came on duty the order had just been written and a special sticker was placed on her chart and her wrist band. My patient’s future was settled.
There would be no peace in this ICU room tonight. Rhythmic buzzing from the IV pump was abruptly interrupted with her spasmodic dry heaves. I had medicated her and as I had nothing else to alleviate the nausea so I showed the father (he was her Dad I was to learn later) how to pour ice water from the pitcher over a clean washcloth, squeeze out the extra water and place it gently on his daughter’s forehead and at the nape of her neck. He seemed grateful to be participating in his daughter’s care. Good. The dad has a task to do. I hope this helps him as his face was almost as ashen as was his daughters. He was fighting hard to keep the tears welling in his eyes from spilling down his face. I took a deep breath and said a silent payer for both of them.
Just as I turned to leave her bedside a small stature man wearing a modest suit and white shirt walked into the room. He was accompanied by a lady I took to be his wife. He warmly greeted the distraught man leaning over the bed. I thanked God for sending someone to care for the father of my patient. Now I could turn my full attention to the urgent needs of his daughter.
The wiry little man with gentle eyes asked “Please, tell us what you can. I am the pastor for her father and this is his sister” We exchanged a quick handshake and I told them “I do not think she will live trough the night” To which he replied,” Her mother is flying in from another state and will arrive tomorrow. “That being the case,” I shared “perhaps she will hold on until her mother gets here. I have observed this happen on more than one occasion”
“Please know,” I continued “of course I am concerned for my patient; however I am equally concerned for her father. Can someone stay with him this evening? He is in desperate need of a friend.” They both agreed to stay and take turns staying in the room that was becoming more intense with my patient’s obvious distress. In passing before leaving the pastor, who I was to learn was a Presbyterian minister, I inquired about the soul state of my patient. “She has Catholic roots” he replied.
An hour (only an hour) had passed. The thin oxygen tube supplying her with life giving air was not enough.
She strongly resisted the oxygen mask I placed to her face, saying “I don’t want this!” to which her dad leaned over her bed and in tears pleaded “Please honey, do it! Do it for me!”
“Linda (I just named her Linda) sat up and cried out. I have to see my children! My gut instinct was to not allow children at her bedside; she was by this time reduced to gasping for air, restless and non compliant to keep the mask on her face
How can I allow children, little sponges, to be a part of this gut wrenching scene? As quickly as I decided against permitting her children to come to the bedside of their mother, I changed my mind. Who am I to stand in the way of them saying goodbye to their mother? So in they came. A baby carried in his grandmother’s arms, a toddler, toddling, a four year old and a shy ten year old. This is not going to drag out, I am thinking as Linda is not going to last long, as the children stood watching their mother look at each one of them as if trying to burn their faces into her memory for an eternity. Taking charge of an awkward moment, I found myself, picking up the four year old and placing her on the bed alongside of her mother’s clammy cool body. The ten year old was pulled to the opposite side of the bed and with the help of a small stool was able to reach up and hug her mother. Time seemed to stand still as I watched in tears two little girls telling their mother a last goodbye. I know this heart breaking goodbye lasted just a few minutes however time seemed to stand still as all in the room held back their tears.
The children were now gone and we settled into a dizzying routine, a near battle really, as Linda kept taking off the mask. I was preparing another more effective mask in an attempt to supply her with a greater concentration of oxygen, when she defied all efforts to prolong her life.
A distraught daddy cried over his little girl as she slipped out of his reach and breathed her last breath.
In my years as a bedside nurse I have ushered many souls into eternity. It does not get easier with the years.
Linda was a Catholic at one time in her life. In reaching out for comfort the family requested I summon a Catholic priest. As it is now past ten o’clock, none are in residence in the hospital. While waiting for our call to be returned, God stepped in and provided His answer to our situation. A Priest just “happened” to be coming on a daily visit (at ten-PM??) to another patient in ICU. I quickly squirreled him to the bedside of my patient. Not EVEN telling him the nature of his unplanned visit. His discernment of the situation was appreciated. This gentle man of God, placed his royal purple prayer shawl around his neck, opened his prayer book and began with “In the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit” And I began humming ever so silently inside myself “surely the presence of the Lord is in this place. I can feel His mighty power and His grace. I can feel the brush of angels’ wings touch the tears on each face. Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.
Judy ...a night nurse
I am Judy your nurse. I will be watching over you tonight.
“I hope you are an angel
Cuz’ I need angels watching over me right now!” she looked up with pleading eyes replying in short staccato breaths.
I quickly assessed her lungs, checked the IV site, adjusted the oxygen blasting into her nose and glanced at the numbers on the monitor over her bed. The concerned man at her bedside was perhaps her husband. It was difficult to discern as a long history of heart failure had ravaged her young body. At 28 she looked very old. Just prior to my shift her physician visited with her and her family. They were all in agreement. In case of death, my little patient was not to be resuscitated. I was grateful to not have been privy to this most difficult physician-patient consultation. When I came on duty the order had just been written and a special sticker was placed on her chart and her wrist band. My patient’s future was settled.
There would be no peace in this ICU room tonight. Rhythmic buzzing from the IV pump was abruptly interrupted with her spasmodic dry heaves. I had medicated her and as I had nothing else to alleviate the nausea so I showed the father (he was her Dad I was to learn later) how to pour ice water from the pitcher over a clean washcloth, squeeze out the extra water and place it gently on his daughter’s forehead and at the nape of her neck. He seemed grateful to be participating in his daughter’s care. Good. The dad has a task to do. I hope this helps him as his face was almost as ashen as was his daughters. He was fighting hard to keep the tears welling in his eyes from spilling down his face. I took a deep breath and said a silent payer for both of them.
Just as I turned to leave her bedside a small stature man wearing a modest suit and white shirt walked into the room. He was accompanied by a lady I took to be his wife. He warmly greeted the distraught man leaning over the bed. I thanked God for sending someone to care for the father of my patient. Now I could turn my full attention to the urgent needs of his daughter.
The wiry little man with gentle eyes asked “Please, tell us what you can. I am the pastor for her father and this is his sister” We exchanged a quick handshake and I told them “I do not think she will live trough the night” To which he replied,” Her mother is flying in from another state and will arrive tomorrow. “That being the case,” I shared “perhaps she will hold on until her mother gets here. I have observed this happen on more than one occasion”
“Please know,” I continued “of course I am concerned for my patient; however I am equally concerned for her father. Can someone stay with him this evening? He is in desperate need of a friend.” They both agreed to stay and take turns staying in the room that was becoming more intense with my patient’s obvious distress. In passing before leaving the pastor, who I was to learn was a Presbyterian minister, I inquired about the soul state of my patient. “She has Catholic roots” he replied.
An hour (only an hour) had passed. The thin oxygen tube supplying her with life giving air was not enough.
She strongly resisted the oxygen mask I placed to her face, saying “I don’t want this!” to which her dad leaned over her bed and in tears pleaded “Please honey, do it! Do it for me!”
“Linda (I just named her Linda) sat up and cried out. I have to see my children! My gut instinct was to not allow children at her bedside; she was by this time reduced to gasping for air, restless and non compliant to keep the mask on her face
How can I allow children, little sponges, to be a part of this gut wrenching scene? As quickly as I decided against permitting her children to come to the bedside of their mother, I changed my mind. Who am I to stand in the way of them saying goodbye to their mother? So in they came. A baby carried in his grandmother’s arms, a toddler, toddling, a four year old and a shy ten year old. This is not going to drag out, I am thinking as Linda is not going to last long, as the children stood watching their mother look at each one of them as if trying to burn their faces into her memory for an eternity. Taking charge of an awkward moment, I found myself, picking up the four year old and placing her on the bed alongside of her mother’s clammy cool body. The ten year old was pulled to the opposite side of the bed and with the help of a small stool was able to reach up and hug her mother. Time seemed to stand still as I watched in tears two little girls telling their mother a last goodbye. I know this heart breaking goodbye lasted just a few minutes however time seemed to stand still as all in the room held back their tears.
The children were now gone and we settled into a dizzying routine, a near battle really, as Linda kept taking off the mask. I was preparing another more effective mask in an attempt to supply her with a greater concentration of oxygen, when she defied all efforts to prolong her life.
A distraught daddy cried over his little girl as she slipped out of his reach and breathed her last breath.
In my years as a bedside nurse I have ushered many souls into eternity. It does not get easier with the years.
Linda was a Catholic at one time in her life. In reaching out for comfort the family requested I summon a Catholic priest. As it is now past ten o’clock, none are in residence in the hospital. While waiting for our call to be returned, God stepped in and provided His answer to our situation. A Priest just “happened” to be coming on a daily visit (at ten-PM??) to another patient in ICU. I quickly squirreled him to the bedside of my patient. Not EVEN telling him the nature of his unplanned visit. His discernment of the situation was appreciated. This gentle man of God, placed his royal purple prayer shawl around his neck, opened his prayer book and began with “In the Name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit” And I began humming ever so silently inside myself “surely the presence of the Lord is in this place. I can feel His mighty power and His grace. I can feel the brush of angels’ wings touch the tears on each face. Surely the presence of the Lord is in this place.
Judy ...a night nurse