It's late, the hour, and the life of the man whose dying breaths fill the room. Those agonal respirations prompted one of the family to call 911, although they had been coached, and prepared for this moment for months. Their dad, husband, brother and grandpa lie dying in the living room of the house he built, and raised his family in.
Most were there now, the phone calls going out a few hours ago, that chain of communication families dealing with terminal illness know all too well.
"It's soon."
So the gathering of loved ones parts as we arrive, making way for our bag full of meds, the defibrillator, the stair chair, prepared to do what we must.
"Does he have any final wishes?" I ask, hoping somebody understands and comes up with the DNR. My partner puts an oxygen mask over the man's face, a few people protest, most just watch.
"The Hospice people have the paperwork."
His respirations are slowing now, his eighty pound frame shaking, thankfully unconscious as the morphine pump grinds along.
I hear the sirens of the engine company in the distance, more strangers about to invade this intimate gathering-this final farewell. It's a moment that will stay with the survivors forever, and give them comfort in the difficult days ahead. Knowing their loved one died with dignity, in the home he built, surrounded by family.
"I need a Do Not Resuscitate order signed by him or a doctor," I say to the person who appears to be in charge. He nods, understanding my request and the position I am in.
Two respirations a minute now. The guy is fumbling for the paperwork as his dad is about to leave this earth forever. The engine company arrives on scene, chaos about to enter and ruin the hoped for serenity of a man's final moments with his family.
"It's okay," I tell the man, and step outside, closing the door behind me.
Mike:
This is the call that only a seasoned and compasionate EMT must take over at. Yes I know that the Law is the Law and without an up to date signed DNR or Comfort One bracelet, we are supposed to ‘Code’ the patient.
I try to always teach my new EMT students to have compasion for the dying and the family and truly act on the best intrest of all the patients in hand.
Although these types of runs are becomming more commen, they are still emotional roller coasters for ALL involved. Compasion has to be the key. I have had a few of these and some have gone well and others have gone bad. The ones that went bad were my fault for not stepping in and sticking to my guns of running the patinet care. Leasons well learned, invaluable experience gained and none of it can be passed on in a classroom.
Good Job Captain.
Ranger
Thank you, Ranger, it’s never easy but always gratifying, (especially when the DNR appears after the dust has settled)
As my career and experience have grown over the years, I have found that this type of experience ranks right up there with attending the birth of a child. To be there as a family is with their loved one to say their final goodbyes is really special to be a part of. So many times we respond to an un-attended death and wonder or know what their family members will go through.
In my younger years, I used to be so “gung-ho” about my job and profession. But over the years I have found that I can still be the same compassionate and enthusiastic provider, but have the knowledge and restraint to respect and admire our patient’s wishes.
This even becomes more prevalent when we respond to a nursing facility for a patient who has the Do Not Resuscitate order and can hold their hand and say a prayer while they transition this world to another thereby becoming a part of that person’s life at such a somber, surreal moment.
Well written Captain and job well done!
Awesome, Sam, it’s good to know others see things in the same light! Thanks for stopping by and leaving a comment always appreciated.
I am very sympathetic to hospice patients, especially since my father died in similar circumstances. Unfortunately, I work in a system that would take a couple day’s pay and maybe even my license if I turned a blind eye and got caught.
Hi John, it’s crazy, but what I theoretically did, (this is fiction, right?) cost our service thousands and the hospital tens of thousands.
Bless you for that act of kindness. Let them make up for their “thousands” with the toothaches…