Another Month Did and Done

Well, it's Sunday. Officially, the last day of the module, and the last day of the medical year. Tomorrow morning I start as a senior resident in the Emergency Department. Fifteen more months and I will be done. I am going to put a counter on the sideline to count down the days.

After the excitement and interesting tales from this last rotation and the two months of Orthopedics before this, my husband was telling me that I was going back to the usual "boring stuff." I reminded him that I would be doing this "boring stuff" for the rest of my career; unless, of course, he lets me return to surgery and be a resident for another three years. By the groans and threats of moving to live in an RV on a beach in Florida I take it he is about ready for this to be over too.

My last case at the ME's office on Friday was a sad tale of a massive thunderstorm and downpour, a car out of control and hitting the curb at about 75 mph, jumping the curb and over a about a 3 foot wall and slamming into a church. The driver had major trauma to his head and lower legs. His passenger died.

Again, while I can't discuss the specific findings, I can say that this was the most trauma I had ever seen on one person. That the driver survived at all is incredible. I was in amazement throughout the entire post-mortem exam. I couldn't even begin to think of what I would do had this patient come into the emergency department. Where to even start. But, this is one of the reasons I did this rotation. To make you think about the traumas. To make you understand more fully the traumas. And, to realize that there are some things that can't be fixed.

What I'll be missing tomorrow: a second child has died of the H1N1 flu virus. We had been following her condition very closely throughout the last week. And, a victim of a train accident has died. I heard the radio call out when he was first injured and was amazed that he survived to make it to ECMC. I heard about his progress in the ICU. They will probably be posted tomorrow. With tongue in cheek, this just goes to show that even at the ME's office, life goes on.

Passing Gentle Into That Good Night

Yesterday (Monday), we had the autopsy of the first case of H1N1 Flu to die in our area. It was very sad because the young man was so young and previously healthy. I wasn't present at the post-mortem because of the high level of precautions being taken. However, I did hear about the case during morning report, and one of my colleagues is on their PICU (Pediatric ICU) rotation, and I heard some information from them.

Today we had three cases. Three people who died in their sleep and were found after a friend, relative, or neighbor grew concerned enough about them that they sent someone to check on their welfare. In one way, I think most people would like to just pass from this life in their sleep. A simple blink from existence. However, I found myself somewhat saddened by their stories, because to me they died alone. Although someone checked on them, thought enough about them to be concerned, no one was actually with them when they passed.

I think I've only been at the bedside of one or two patients when they've died. Both of which I later had to deal with guilty feelings for turning off the ventilator. Medically, I knew that they were brain dead. I knew that the best thing I could do for them was to let them go. Emotionally, though, I still felt as though I was the one ultimately responsible for their death. I talked to their families and got them to understand that their loved one wasn't going to recover. I signed the orders for morphine and to stop medications to keep their hearts going and their blood pressure up. I turned off the breathing machine. I pronounced them when they flatlined.

I thought a lot about Dylan Thomas' poem today. As a physician, and especially one who works the "front line" in the E.D. , I can't help but daily think I "rage, rage against the dying of the light." And, when we lose the fight, I am glad that someone was there to witness and to pray.

Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night
by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.