The End of My Days

At this point, I’ve seen a wide range of how people spend their last days. And I wonder what I would prefer, if I’m lucky enough to choose.

There are those who come into the hospital critically ill and get intubated and opt (sometimes family opts in for them) to go through chest compressions and shocks. Many don’t survive or survive with debilitating conditions.

Sometimes people come into the hospital and say just let me go when I go. Don’t do compressions, don’t put a tube down my throat. When it’s my time, it’s my time. Few days ago, I had an elderly patient who had recently lost his spouse and he was now sick with covid. He took off his oxygen mask and his oxygen level plummeted and he passed away pretty quickly.

I’ve also seen elderly people whose mentation is crystal clear and 100% aware of the physical changes their bodies are going through and trying to reconcile with the unfortunate fact that they can no longer do the things they used to love doing even through their mind says they can. Some are better than others in accepting this process.

Thinking about death doesn’t necessarily have to make everything seem grim. It’s perhaps the most natural part of the human condition. What it does give me is some perspective and makes me wonder, “Am I prioritizing the right things so that when I get to the end of my life, whenever that may be, would I be at peace with my life and be able to accept the end of my days?”

Family Meeting

One of my patients with covid had a son who came in and made me cry after our conversation. He begged me to let him go into her room and to touch her, to be with her, and to calm her down because she was so anxious being by herself in an isolation room. I couldn’t say anything other than that I was so sorry that they were going through this and that due to hospital policy and to reduce spread of covid, we can’t have him go in. He asked me,

“What if this was your mom? How would you feel if you had to sit here and watch your mom suffering alone when you don’t even know when you’re going to see her next?”

That really hit me and I just had to repeat myself and leave.

I felt so down the whole night and cried in front of my seniors doubting whether it’s even humane to keep these patients in the hospital when we don’t even know if our treatments are working for them. These people may be living their last days and they are completely alone most of the day. They definitely aren’t getting what they want – to be with their family members.

Was I feeling this way because I felt guilty that I wasn’t spending enough time with my patients, especially those with covid? Could I do things differently so that I have more time to actually be with them in the room? Would that have made a difference? If it was my mom, how would I have treated her differently? Is it even realistic to treat each patient like your own family?