Personal Blog: A Lonely Fight

It is often discussed whether or not patients should die alone

On my first day as a nurse on the intensive care, I have the responsibility for an elderly woman who came to us from the nursing home.                                      

Her condition is deteriorating, the result of general detariation and malnutrition.

Mrs. Has family, who according to the collegues have 'already said goodbye', she lies lonely with us in a room. Although it sounds harsh, the comatose state of Ms. gives me some reassurance.

Although it is not entirely clear, I am softening my thoughts, that Mrs. hopefully isn't aware of her physical condition and her loneliness.
Fortunately, it is quiet on our shift and I can spend a lot of time with her, not only for the technical procedures and or giving here medication, but also just to hold her hand or caress her trough her hair.

As the shift goes on, she gradually gets deeper and deeper into a comatose state, it strikes me that her breathing changes, ever faster and more superficially.

My intuition says that passing will probably not be long away, I feel a dilemma, what is the usual protocol in this intensive care unit? Would colleagues find it strange if I stay with her for so long (although it is not a problem in terms of time of dutys, as so often i choose what i feel is the best for my patient and do not let the possible (negative) opinions of colleagues outweigh the choice that in my eyes emotionally is the best.

I decide to stay with her, in my opinion nobody should die alone.

It was a special time frame of more than an hour. Little by little I saw the clinical signs that the transition would not take long. The deeper comatose state, the faster superficial breathing that turns into a slow, almost absent breathing. The heart trying to do more and more effort to keep the body alive, while the soul had already let go.

It was remarkable to see how the heart at a given moment seemed to accept that fighting was pointless, the heart rhythm gives up the struggle and it feels very special that I am beside her as a silent witness and companion. So that she did not have to die alone, the women who I did not know and who was a stranger to me and still is.

But it's not about me, it was about her

That lonely patient, who was not alone in her struggle and not only in her passing.
Did she she feel my hand holding her hand in the last part of her life?
We will never know, but luckily I don't have to ask myself