Stand By Me Driving to my dying patient first thing this morning I’m anxious to see if his night was peaceful. The rattle had begun the day before, gurgling secretions rumbled in his throat. Another nurse visited for me yesterday. Even though I wanted to be the one to go, there are times when I can’t get to everyone. Seeing patients every week creates a bond, but I knew the other nurse would do everything right. This morning I arrive to find him in poor condition. He is struggling to breathe with fluid in his throat. His head moves from side to side, arms thrash wildly, eyes squint, and a piercing moan is the only sound he makes; it is an awful sight. Fear builds inside me, my eyes open wide. I don’t know what to fix first. It’s one of those moments when I have to reach back into my mind to rely on training and my years of experience. I run out to my car, dig frantically for a catheter, and run back in. After giving medicines for pain, for restlessness, for secretions, I insert the catheter tube. The pain from a full bladder is eliminated. One step at a time I tell myself; stay calm. His daughter Jan rushes through the front door. She takes a look at him lying in the hospital bed and asks what she can do. She paces from room to room, pleading for help. “I don’t care what it takes,” she says, “I just want my dad to be out of pain.” It is time to wait for the medications to do their work; I’ve given the maximum amount ordered. I get on the phone with my manager and say, “There is an acute crisis here. Can this patient go to our inpatient facility?”
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