On death and dying
Practice WednesdayPosted on Wed Oct 11, 2006 at 10:59:54 AM EST
Recently a colleague sent something out asking for thoughts about the language we use to describe this movement. It caused a lively exchange about the word "care" and our need to balance the very real nursing needs of residents with their fundamental claim to home and all the rights and privilages implied by that word.
And then one morning in our in-box appeared this message from David Farrell, reproduced here with his permission:
Some days are just a blur. But, at the end of the day a few things linger in my mind. Like the sight of an elder actively dying.
It's hard. I have not had to experience this in awhile.
Ms. Smith called me into room 2115 while I was saying "hello" during my morning rounds and I looked back at her roommate and saw that she was dying. She was really gasping for air into the oxygen mask. A large H tank was next to her. She was struggling to live. She was thin as a rail and her skin seemed taught against her cheek bones. Her eyes were closed.
Her daughter was there. I had seen her there by her Mother many times before.
"Can I get you or your Mom anything?" I asked.
"No." she said.
This is the part of the job I didn't miss when I worked for the QIO. The deaths.
Human beings die in nursing homes. Employees here face more death in a year here then most people do outside of this environment in their entire lifetime. I am taken aback by it now. I was used to it before.
Back when I worked 15 straight years as a NHA, I got used to it but roughly every three years during those 15, I would have a rough time and it was usually a death which triggered it.
Few jobs have this element of death. The safe haven of the cubicle world I had for the past four years is "normal." In that environment, there was virtually no chance that I would stumble upon a human dying in front of me in the next cube. But here, in this somewhat "abnormal" work environment, death can be around any corner, in any room.
Sometimes I think: It's a good thing I have not become immune to death. I wonder - When I become immune, I'm sunk. That's when I should get out of the profession for good. Surely, that would be the first sign of burnout.
Other times, just the opposite thoughts swirl in my head.
Here I was this morning. I was cruising through my morning rounds. I was focused on the organization. Just thinking about those ten things on my "to-do" list. Preparing for the next QI meeting. After all, I am running this business. And then, just like that - WHAM! Here's a slap of reality for me. Look here. A human being is dying right in front of me. Right there. Right in front of me. She's dying.
I'm human. This is rough. And this is the only thing that stuck with me from today as I sit down to write this tonight.
David Farrell
Administrator
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