Today, I saw a man die, silently inhaling one final time. I
witnessed the mourning wife, her husband taken away from her too soon.
Today, I watched as the heart monitor slowly went from 100
to 70 to 60 to 40, and finally, to 0. I saw our team standing next to this man,
silently, knowing there is nothing we could do, but also not wanting him to die
alone.
Today, this man’s life ended as we helplessly watched and comforted.
Because that’s what medicine is about. It’s not about being a hero. It’s not
about the salary. It’s about being there in the time of need for your patient,
even if it means standing next to them as they tragically, yet peacefully pass
away.
Today, I saw a team of healthcare professionals silently
mourn before declaring death. Yet I also saw beauty in an amazing team of
nurses and EMTs clean this man before they took him away.
Today, the world keeps spinning for me. Because there are
more patients in need and more work to be done. But as my world keeps spinning,
I can’t help but wonder, will this family’s world keep spinning or will it come
crashing down on them, like so many families before them?
Tomorrow is a mystery. I may witness more tragedy or I may
witness beauty. The only thing that is for sure, is today. And in Haiti,
sometimes that’s not even a sure thing.
A 40-year-old man passed away today. It’s only 10am. How’s
your today?
