Thread by @LGlaucomflecken

On this day two years ago, my perfectly healthy husband had a sudden cardiac arrest in his sleep. I fought back death for ten long minutes with no weapons but my hands and phone. I watched the color change and eventually drain out of his body.

I heard the sounds of his brain stem struggling to suck in oxygen. I heard his body slamming against the hard wood of our living room floor as electricity ripped into his heart. I had the difficult conversations with our 8- and 5-year-old children.

I waited the agonizing days at home, separated from him in his greatest need, unable to comfort or be comforted. I was responsible for decisions about his treatment. I was responsible for trying to get updates about his condition and for sharing those with family members.

I celebrated when he was responsive, when he followed commands, when he stood up and walked, when he came home. I answered the hundreds of repeated questions while his memory was stuck in a loop. I suffered the trauma, the shock, the flashbacks.

That cardiac arrest didn’t happen in my body, but it very much happened to me, too. Patients are not cases. They are people, who love and are loved by other people. Their lives are often intertwined, impossible to try to extricate into separate bins of “patient” & “not patient.”

Don’t forget those other people. Some of them are co-patients, co-survivors. The medical event happens to them, too. They need you, too.

https://twitter.com/LGlaucomflecken/status/990481041927294977?s=20&t=jtZ32W1PjqiIqm_vElcaOg

Every time you enjoy a @DGlaucomflecken video, I hope you’ll remember what made it possible. I hope you’ll see, hear, and help the co-patients, caregivers, and family members you encounter in your work. I hope you’ll share with them your humanity. ❤️‍🩹

onlinejcf.com/article/S1071-…