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DNR

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lavinla



Joined: 14 May 2008
Posts: 10
DNR

“Why was the crash cart taken away?” asked the disembodied voice.

There was a doctor standing in the alcove that was the entrance to two separate rooms. The face of the young doctor seemed tired. He quickly inhaled before stepping forward.

“I wanted to talk to you about that,” he said as he disappeared from view.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” said the female voice, “She’s a full code.”

“I just want to make sure you know what you’re asking for,” the doctor said.

“I’m asking you to help her live,” whipped back the young woman.

“That isn’t a life,” he lowered his voice.

“You mean you need the bed for your next customer,” the venom in her voice was harsh.

“You had no right to put the DNR code in her chart,” her voice shook, “She is my mother. After she’s gone, you’ll have other patients. I won’t have another mother.”

“I understand,” he was starting to get impatient.

“I don’t care if you understand or don’t,” she clarified, “I don’t care if you agree or don’t. It’s not your choice. It’s not your right to decide if she lives or dies.”

“Do you really think this is what she would have wanted?” he asked honestly.

“Do you know her?” asked the young woman, “Do you know how long she fought and struggled? Do you know how much pain she endured? Do you know what she did it for? Because she wanted to live! The vomiting, the hair loss, the fucking leg cramps because the jackass resident forgot to wean her off the steroids instead of just stopping it cold turkey, the infiltrated ivs that made her arm swell three times its normal size, the never ending sleepless nights… Do you think she would allow herself to just give up now?

She can’t keep fighting, so I will do it for her.

You put the fucking crash cart back outside her room!”

“Do you really know what you’re asking for?” not trying to hide his annoyance anymore.

“Is that a serious question,” she almost whisperer, “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“Do you know what goes on in a code?” he ignored her question.

She didn’t say anything.

“It’s not pretty,” he started, “Resuscitating someone is very violent. It’s very loud. People come running. If tubes can’t be forced in, the area is cut so the tube fits. Needles are jammed in whatever area is accessible. The heat of the paddles shocking the heart burns the skin, and makes it blister. Ribs are cracked and lungs get pierced, making the patient vomit blood…”

“Are you done?” she didn’t seem phased by his description.

There was silence. A hospital was never totally quiet. There was always something making some kind of noise. But for a few seconds, there was complete silence.

“I expect you to treat her like she is still alive,” the woman said very calmly, “because she is still alive. I expect you to do everything you are able to do. If it’s her time to go, nothing we do will change that. But if she’s not meant to go now, then she’ll come back. That’s between her and God.”

“You don’t want to accept that she is going to die,” his patience disappeared, “She’ll start having more and more difficulty breathing, until she starts using her abdominal muscles. When those get tired, she’ll stop breathing altogether…”

“Get out!” she yelled, “Get the fuck out right now! You fucking son of a bitch!”

“Your anger isn’t going to change anything,” he countered.

Why wasn’t he leaving?

The silence following his words was interrupted by the sound of glass breaking. Shards of smoked glass sprayed into the alcove. He quickly followed, ducked down, holding his hands over his head. Another vase hit the door as he closed it behind him.

“I can’t deal with her,” said the doctor to the nurse standing outside the room as he straightened his lab coat.

“She’s just a baby,” said the nurse sympathetically, “and soon she’ll be an orphan.”

“She can’t go around throwing stuff at people,” he said weakly.

“And you can’t go around making decisions that aren’t yours to make,” challenged the nurse.

“Page the attending and have him speak to the family,” his ego just as shattered as the vase, “Page ICU to assess the patient for transfer, and put the damm crash cart back outside the room.”

The crash cart was back outside the room before housekeeping even had a chance to sweep up the broken glass.

Post Wed May 14, 2008 5:34 am 
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