I love when I’m working emerg and my next patient is someone I already know. It makes it so easy to get to the bottom of what’s happening and get them feeling better.
Unless they come in VSA. Then it just sucks.
Especially when they are young and their kids aren’t ready to be an orphan in high school.
Especially when they’re your own patient.
Especially when the family thinks, because of a diagnosis you magically pulled out of your ass that you walk on water.
Especially when no matter how many of the Hs you cross off the PEA list, he just doesn’t come back. His pulse never returns. He doesn’t have another joke, or jab, or hug. He’s just purple and bloaty and looking nothing like you’re guy anymore. His brain stem hasn’t caught up to his heart and doesn’t realize he is dead so keeps telling his lungs to breath horrific, agonal breathes and you have to explain to his children that he is dead.
Not gone. Not done. Dead. Without those words his kids can’t move on.
But they need answers. Why? How? What did I do wrong?? Who can I blame? Maybe I didn’t love him enough? I just want to hide and cry. Because I have the same questions and no answers.
It’s an honour to say that I fought valiantly to save his life. But would be a greater honour to say I had actually won.
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