Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name...
He was admitted for monitoring but we know how it goes. With the high flow nasal oxygen and the mask his oxygen levels were still only in the 80s.
"Try to lay on your stomach for as long as you can tolerate, I'll be back."
He was admitted for monitoring but we know how it goes. With the high flow nasal oxygen and the mask his oxygen levels were still only in the 80s.
"Try to lay on your stomach for as long as you can tolerate, I'll be back."
He did not tolerate. It's hard with all the things on your face to lay like that. It's hard when your lungs betray you and don't do their job. It's hard when you see the news every day and know that the ventilator is the last resort.
He was tiring. It would soon be time...
He was tiring. It would soon be time...
All garbed up in PPE I go back in the room to talk to him before the team comes in. He knows it's getting worse. I ask if he wants to call his wife to talk to her before we rest him on the ventilator.
He asks if we can take the mask off to make the call.
He asks if we can take the mask off to make the call.
We really can't afford to lose any gains with the double oxygen therapy but I also know this may be his last time to speak with her. He knows it too. I take the mask off and hold it close by so it's at least blowing on him while he tells his wife he loves her.
The team is busy intubating across the hall but I can't leave him to go help. He is uncomfortable as he tries to find a method of breathing that doesn't cause panic. I breathe with him as though it was lamaze... Slowly in through your nose, out through your mouth
I hold my finger up and tell him to pretend it's a candle that he can't blow out. Slow relaxed breathing. There now. That's it. Don't blow out the candle. It works until the coughing fit starts up again.
We've lost all grounds. Oxygen levels are now in the 70s... Team is coming
We've lost all grounds. Oxygen levels are now in the 70s... Team is coming
Through laboured breaths he tells me he is afraid. I tell him he's exactly where he needs to be, we will do everything we can to help him.
He holds my gloved hands and squeezes tight as he tries not to blow out the imaginary candle
He holds my gloved hands and squeezes tight as he tries not to blow out the imaginary candle
I ask him if he wants to pray. He emphatically nods yes. Does he want to be alone to pray? No.
We sit there holding hands as I offer a silent prayer over the hum of the oxygen. Then he starts... Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...
We sit there holding hands as I offer a silent prayer over the hum of the oxygen. Then he starts... Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...
I join in, thy kingdom come; thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. I haven't said this prayer in many years but it comes back to me as though it was yesterday.
Give us this day our daily bread...
Give us this day our daily bread...
By the end I'm the only one reciting the prayer. He is too breathless. Too scared. Too tired.
Them team is in the room now. He looks only to me. I tell him he is going to sleep for a few days, I want to hear about the dreams he has when we see each other next.
Them team is in the room now. He looks only to me. I tell him he is going to sleep for a few days, I want to hear about the dreams he has when we see each other next.
He nods ever so slightly and gives the tiniest of smiles. He asks my name once more before the sedation is sent through his veins.
"I'm going to remember that, in this place and the next" he says just before he drifts off to sleep.
"I'm going to remember that, in this place and the next" he says just before he drifts off to sleep.
I send up another prayer, "Our father, who art in heaven, please let it be in this place, Amen"
• • •
Missing some Tweet in this thread? You can try to
force a refresh
