| For all you non-facebookers... Exactly seven days ago, one of my patients died. And I stood in a corner and watched, unable to do anything.
I was working in the emergency room at the time, when suddenly the paramedic alarm blasted through the department. The paramedics yelled through the intercom, sounding breathless. They had a middle-aged man in an ambulance and were speeding him toward the hospital.
"He had a carotid pulse when we picked up him," they said. "Car accident. Thrown out of the vehicle. We're doing CPR and bagging him."
"Okay," said the charge nurse. "We'll see you soon."
The emergency room staff charged to their posts, garbed in protective clothing and armed with defibrillators and blood transfusion equipment.
"Come on," said one nurse, "this'll be a great experience for you." She pulled me into the critical care room and pointed to the wall. "Stand there. You'll see everything."
Three more minutes ticked by. The department was a flurry of activity. Monitors, suctioning, IVs, telemetry pads, epinephrine, blood tubing, normal saline, bandages, scissors, stethoscopes, ambu bags. The nurses looked apprehensive, the doctor was calm.
The emergency room door flew open.
Chaos.
"Hold this," said one nurse, running to help with the stretcher. He pushed the suction equipment into my hand. The room flooded with paramedics. One stood to the side of the stretcher, the heel of his hand thumping the patient's chest.
"One-two-three-four..."
The suction catheter hissed away in my clammy grasp as the paramedics positioned the stretcher on the bed.
"He's been trach'ed."
"Good."
Compressions continued as nurses and doctors slapped EKG pads across the patient's chest.
"Get him up there, lemme see that rhythm!" The doctor was streaked with blood.
The wires were attached to the pads, the monitor blinked to life.
Blood bubbled from the patient's numerous wounds. His chest rose and fell as a nurse manually pumped air into his lungs. The heart monitor beeped alarms frantically as it displayed the patient's heart rhythm.
Flat line.
Just breathe, I thought. Oh, God, just let him breathe.
The patient lay silently on the table. Too silent. A nurse pressed her fingers against his neck.
"No pulse," she said. The doctor shook his head.
I clung to the suction catheter, feeling dizzy and sick. The fumes from the patient's gasoline-soaked clothing pervaded the room.
We couldn't save him. He died on the table, despite the efforts of the entire team. Life is so fragile.
I won't describe what he looked like. If you can imagine the worst beating you've ever seen, then multiply it times ten...you may get close.
But I don't write all this to disturb you. I do have a point.
My patient wasn't wearing a seatbelt. He collided head-on with another vehicle and was thrown from the car.
The other driver was wearing a seatbelt. He walked away with a bruised hand. Did you catch that "walked away" part?
So, seatbelts. Rather controversial things. Should we have to wear them by law, or is that impinging on our personal space? Front seats versus back seats, age limits, weight limits, whatever.
Quite frankly, I don't care anymore. Whatever you may think of those oft uncomfortable safety straps, however trite it may sound, seatbelts do save lives.
So wear one. Because life is precious. Because driving is dangerous.
Because I don't ever want to see you in my ER. |
