It's a short lived question. Supplanted by the realization that I really am dysfunctional. Not in the funny sit com laugh track way...but in the " I have a problem feeling when things get tough " way. And yes I realize that I shouldn't start sentences with "and" and that I use way too much punctuation incorrectly. However, none of that is important. What is important and what compels me is what happened today.
I bore witness to the last moments of a 55 year old man. He came to the hospital with a massive heart attack. aka a cardiac arrest. aka "the big one" No name, no ID, no family. Only a report that he had run into the back of a semi truck and been found unconscious with his foot on the gas literally burning rubber.
As he rolled in on the stretcher I noted his color. Skin mottled with a blotchy grey hue and a blueness about his face. Intermittently struggling to initiate a breath...like a gold fish out of water. That's it. No pulse. No pupil movement. Only the cardiac monitor with strange bleeps and his occasional attempts to breath would bear witness to his tenuous hold on life.
On the way to the hospital he had received lots of medicines. Epinephrine, Atropine, Bicarb, Calcium, Amiodarone, Glucose. He had tubes for breathing, fluids for blood pressure, etc. All to no avail. His heart wouldn't beat enough to pump blood. He wasn't really breathing...just brain stem reflexes. The problem was that while my head knew one thing, what my eyes saw was a human being who appeared to be clinging to life.
I was completely vexed. No matter how often this happens it is still never clear what the right thing to do is. Ultimately I made the choice for him. I stopped the treatments. I believed and believe now that further treatment was futile. So I swallowed hard and stopped. Everything. Hands down the hardest thing I have to do. NO questions. Forced to compartmentalize uncertainty. No tears. No hand wringing. There's no crying in baseball or in the Emergency Room. Don't get me wrong, I hate body fluids and excrement...but this is the worst. The problem is that even after you have made the decision, the one to essentially take life into your hands so to speak...there is more to do. The family.
There is nothing like being the bearer of bad news...or the worst news ever for a newly widowed woman of 20+ years of marriage. Watching the involution and collapse of a family upon the news of the patriarchs demise. I have given the news 20 different ways and nothing softens the blow. I can not even begin to put words to the emotion wrought by the death of a child.
In any event, as I sit here tonight I can literally feel the crumbling facade of what was at one time my greatest defense. My ability to become numb. To check out. My misguided sense of good fortune has been to one too many counseling sessions and work shops. All I can do now is attempt to "check" the sick feeling that continues to swell up in me as I realize the tragedy in the unexpected loss of life. I simply want to cry. Weep. Wail. For all those times I bore witness to God's miracle extinguished. Sometimes early, unexpectedly or even completely able to be reasoned by the context.
The power of prayer. Even empty prayers by people new to faith can get answered...so be careful what you pray for. I originally only asked to feel my wife's heart...to know her hurts and pains. To be able to commune with her. Look where it got me. Closer to my wife. Closer to my son's. Closer to my daughters. If I am not careful I could become a good person. Maybe have a close friend or two. I didn't even pray for that.
3 comments:
This was stunning in its impact. In a good way. Glad to read these words. Well said.
I am thankful for the good work the Lord has done and continues to do in my dear friend Matt. Just keep sharing with us... if you don't, you may get a tap on the door from the blog-po-po.
BTW, you have some comments on Facebook via Renee's account... maybe you need to hop on the Facebook bandwagon too. We've all sold out already... don't be scared. There's no shame.
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