I work for NODA (No One Dies Alone) as a volunteer. I keep hospice patients company during their final days, hours, minutes and even seconds before they transition. When I am notified there is a need for me to sit with someone, normal procedure is to go to the 6th floor (the hospice floor) of the hospital, check-in at the desk and go to the assigned room where the hospice patient is located. Here, I sit with them as long as necessary or until the next volunteer is scheduled to come in and take over.
This Saturday I was sitting with a hospice patient quite early in the morning (around 4:45 a.m.) and I stayed longer than usual as the patient seemed to be progressing rapidly in their transition. I didn’t want to leave him alone so I waited longer than I was scheduled until the next volunteer was scheduled to be there which was about two hours away.
The next NODA volunteer showed up and I informed her what transpired that morning and asked her if she wanted me to stay with her. She indicated she would be okay and I left to run some errands.
A few hours later I received a notification that I was needed in the ICU for another hospice patient. The notification was marked “urgent” meaning this patient had less than hours (or even minutes) to live. I immediately dropped what I was doing and rushed to the hospital praying I would make it there before this patient expired so they would not be alone.
I arrived at the hospital within 15 minutes and rushed to the 4th floor to the ICU unit. I checked in and was directed to the patient’s room.
Immediately upon entering the room I noticed the patient was exceptionally pale. He was hooked up to over 10 IV bags, was on dialysis, a ventilator and other equipment. It was quite alarming to see, to be honest. The nurse greeted me and thanked me for coming so quickly. She was moving quite rapidly, adhering to the warnings that kept going off indicating one of the IV bags needed to be replaced. It was like musical chairs except with IV bags instead of the chairs. Once she replaced one that was empty another warning bell would go off letting her know another one needed to be changed.
While she was doing this I noticed the blue ventilator breathing for this poor man. It is my understanding that in more critical cases, a breathing tube is placed into one’s windpipe and a breathing tube is connected to a ventilator that blows air right into your airway. This process of putting the tube in your windpipe is called intubation. This man was intubated.
I watched the ventilator (which looked like an accordion) expand approximately every 5 seconds and then retreat. It was actually quite interesting and fascinating.
I proceeded to talk to this man and tell him I was here with him and he was doing so good. I told him he need not be afraid and everything was okay. I reassured him he was in great hands and the staff was treating him exceptionally well. There was no indication he heard me or knew I was there but I prayed he did.
For the next hour or so the nurse continued her routine of changing the IV bags and manually taking care of his dialysis as apparently there was a power outage in the plug that goes into the wall preventing the dialysis from occurring mechanically. She mentioned this to another nurse who instructed her to perform the dialysis manually and not worry about the plug if it wasn’t working.
At this time, another ICU nurse entered the room and looked at this man and said out loud “oh, this is not good. This is horrible.” When she left I asked the nurse, “if this man was not breathing on his own, was the ventilator keeping him alive?” to which she responded, “yes, unfortunately it is”. Both she and I thought it was heartbreaking as this man was basically brain-dead.
What was even more disturbing is this man had rigor mortis that was setting in. Rigor Mortis is when the limbs stiffen in a corpse due to chemical changes in the muscles after death. I could visibly see the rigor mortis setting in and that I had never seen before. It was quite disturbing to say the least. I saw what I thought was rigor mortis a long time ago when a bird died and was laying on the leaves in the forest. The poor thing was stiff as a board. Apparently, it had been there for quite some time.
The nurse then explained to me that they could not take him off the machines because he had a drug in his system that paralyzed him. Until they knew that drug was out of his system it would be as if they are killing him and that is against the law in Michigan.
She, again, stated how inhumane this was to keep him alive with all these machines and iv bags and I just sat there thinking all sorts of thoughts but primarily how nobody should have to live like this. The nurse then checked this man’s pupils to see if there was any reaction and there was none. Absolutely zero reaction. I asked if that meant he was, indeed, brain-dead and she nodded affirmatively.
I asked the nurse if there was some test they could perform to see if the drug that paralyzed him was out of his system and she indicated “no, there was not”.
I sat with this patient for another 10 to 15 minutes when the nurse that walked in about 15 minutes earlier came back in the room. By this time another NODA volunteer showed up a little early so both she and I were in the room with the patient. The Nurse indicated they were going to give this man a bath and asked us to step out in the hallway for about 30 minutes. We did as instructed and stepped out in the hallway. The other volunteer and I thought it was quite strange that they were going to give a brain-dead man a bath but it was none of our business. We stood in the hallway for about 15 minutes when this nurse came out of the patient’s room. She looked at us and was startled. She said “oh, you are still here. I forgot about you. He died.” The volunteer and I looked at each other and didn’t know what to say. We thanked the nurse for letting us know and we left the ICU floor. We discussed what transpired and both of us had this unsettling feeling.
I said goodbye to this volunteer and she went on her way. As I walked to my car, I pictured the nurse emptying all of the iv bags which hung on the hangers in that ICU room, disconnecting the blue ventilator, removing the dialysis equipment from the man’s body and finally unplugging the plug from the wall outlet. Tears flowed rapidly down my cheeks.
All afternoon I kept thinking of this poor man and what he went through. I prayed nobody else has to ever go through that ordeal. It seemed so inhumane to let someone suffer like that.
90% of the patients I sit with during our vigils transpire peacefully. They seem to be resting rather comfortably without any duress. It is quite beautiful and natural. It’s not scary at all as many people tend to believe. 10%, regrettably, die as this poor man did and it is beyond heartbreaking.
This Saturday, after the machines were turned off, the iv’s removed, the plugs unplugged, peace finally, finally took over. Godspeed my friend…Godspeed.
About the Author:
LRosenthal563@aol.com
Lynn Rosenthal is a Detroit-area freelance writer who has spent three decades in the legal field. She is married to George Hunter who has covered crime for The Detroit News for over two decades.
Rosenthal and her husband co-authored “The Sadist, The Hitman and the Murder of Jane Bashara, a true-crime book about a man who had his wife killed so he could live his BDSM lifestyle.
Rosenthal also wrote “Promises of Pennies from Heaven” which is about one woman’s journey of pain and perseverance after losing her mother and father in the space of two years.
Rosenthal had also written for The Detroit Jewish News and ehospice.com.
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