He decides to look down at the phone on his lap, then lifts it beside the steering wheel to read the text message.
In those few seconds, his 3500 lb car covers several hundred feet.
He never sees the other car. 1/
I click my way through pages of data.
Raw numbers telling a story. A body’s struggle to equilibrate. A downward spiral.
Terminal velocity.
I log off, and exhale. 2/
The cutting edge of medical science is being applied. The patient is bathed in the soft glow of electronic readouts and white light.
The room is a cocoon. Isolating. 3/
Sometimes it’s more like saving lives.
Sometimes it’s more like saving labs.
I’m caught up in trying to chase numbers, but am I fixing anything?
There is overwhelming shock, worsening multi-organ failure. Windows are closing. 4/
The room is a cocoon.
In its isolation, with all its technology and monitors and readouts, it’s easy to get lulled into a sense of control. 5/
There’s a difference between monitoring, and being “in control” of a vastly complex biological system in critical illness.
As some family members cling to hope with data points, some of them will start to take a step back, and see. 6/
To stop seeing death as a natural endpoint, and start seeing it as a failure of therapy.
If you can use ventricular assist devices, ECMO, dialysis, pressors... well... why wouldn’t you? And why would you stop? 7/
By the time they were adults, most people had witnessed the deaths of numerous people close to them, usually at home.
Death was understood to always be close by.
So close. 8/
Rather than being woven into the fabric of everyday life, it became distanced.
Death was being relegated to hospitals, and funerals, and the occasional car crash we drove past, rubbernecking. 9/
A familiar face we had forgotten how to look at, how to relate to.
Closer to us at every moment, with every breath. The darkness within our own shadows, the pause between heartbeats, the light after all dreams fade.
We had lost an old acquaintance. 10/
Lately the pendulum has started to swing the other way with hospice and palliative care services leading to more people making the choice to die at home, in familiar surroundings.
A natural endpoint for human life. 11/
It is a powerful moment of insight.
I am frequently awed at the ability of grieving families to be selfless, wise, and kind. 12/
Traffic slows to a crawl.
Car crash. Mangled wreckage. Horrific.
I look at it for a fleeting moment as I drive by. Everyone does.
But all we ever see is the road ahead.