Life and death collide on a midsummer day

By Britta Anderson

October 14, 2008 | I walked down the long, green hall of the second-floor patient wing. I could see the warm sun shining through the thin window shades as I passed each room. It was the middle of summer, with the temperature teasing 120 degrees. When I entered a patient room, if I stood by the window, I could feel the heat radiate through the thick glass.

As I passed the ICU, the bitter, stale smell of the nasogastric feeding tubes hit my face with piercing force. The smell was so strong I could taste it. Even though I had been looking forward to lunch for the last two hours, I almost lost my appetite. I entered the white walled, white tiled and white ceiling paneled physical therapy office and pulled my peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of the cool refrigerator.

Just as I sat down and prepared to take a bite, Wanda, one of the physical therapy assistants I worked with, informed me that one of my patients had passed away. We called him Mr. Meese. He had been in a drug-induced coma and hadn't spoken one word to me in the five days I had worked with him. My mind instantly flashed to his poor wife and the fact that he would never recover and have the opportunity to hold her again.

I hadn't ever experienced having one of my patients pass away. I sat there, frozen in thought. All I could think about was his now alone wife and the fact that I had just been helping him with his treatment a half hour earlier. It was then I heard Wanda make a comment about his severe liver disease caused by his incredible intake of alcohol on a daily basis. I didn't know what to think about her lack of feeling in her explanation of the situation. Wanda had been working in hospitals for over twenty years.. I just figured this was something she'd dealt with several times before.

As I continued on through my day, I couldn't get Mr. Meese or his wife out of my head. I had gotten to know Mrs. Meese rather well during my visits to her husband. She would bring in flowers and balloons to decorate his room. Whenever I'd come to give her husband's treatment, she was always holding his hand, rubbing his feet, or giving him some form of physical encouragement. She was by his side almost constantly throughout his entire stay. Every once in a while I'd hear her whisper in her gentle, burdened voice , telling him he was going to get better soon. Although on my first visit I knew his illness would be taking him in the near future, because of Mrs. Meese's firm belief he would pull through, I had actually started to believe myself.

I went to patient after patient, continuing on through my day as if it were just like every other day. Knocking on the patient's door, entering, providing a warm greeting with a bright smile. I continued this routine, while the whole time thinking of all the things Mr. Meese would not be doing because of the decisions he had made on taking care of his body. As I considered this, I realized that almost every patient I was working with was facing the same problem. It wasn't that they were being innocently afflicted by an unfair illness. The reason why they were there was because they had refused to take the time to take proper care of their bodies. Mr. Meese wasn't the only one.

I completed my busy day faster than I thought I would. I walked down the long, green hall of the second floor patient wing to the stairwell. I stepped down to the first floor, methodically descending to another life. There was the hospital life and the outside life. Rarely did they ever meet.

I stepped out into the too warm sunshine. I walked across the thick black asphalt to the employee parking lot. Of course it was at the back. I unlocked my white Corolla that was in need of a wash, as sweat glistened above my brow. I got in and turned on the radio. The car was stifling. I grabbed the black steering wheel, slightly burning my hands, and started to pull out just as Mr. Meese graced my thoughts once more. My two worlds were combining. Today I wouldn't be able to leave my work at the hospital. Today it would come home with me, eat with me, watch TV with me and go to bed with me.

NW
MS