Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Pulling plug and traffic control.
It's another day in the Intensive care unit. 2 days ago I pulled the plug on the chap in Bed 2 . After a good two hours of pouring bucketload of adrenaline, flushing with some other skin-mottling agents, and not to mention getting the consultant out of bed, we gave up on him, or rather he gave up on us.
This guy's been a boozer possible 2/3 of his 40 years of living. Came in through the door vomiting blood. He actually dropped dead following that. A proper cardiac arrest. Heart stopped beating. I have no idea why they even bringing him to here, prolonging the inevitable yet again?The only thing going for him was probably the fact that he is 40. Other than that everything was packing away on him. Liver probably cobbled with fat, gut probably necrosed away, kidney probably shrivelled away to involution and brain probably pickled and mashed.
He's gone anyway. Will always remember that milli second I shone the pen torch through his eyes. They scattered a bizarre muted but buffed reflection . Sent chills down my spine it did. It felt like looking through a deep dark hollow overgrown, abandoned well. I felt somewhat obligingly drawn into them.
Today the chap in bed 1, was slowly giving up as well. He's 87 and had a major pipeline reconstruction. Bucketloads of blood went in this guy. He must have made himself worth some few thousand pounds with that amount of blood. Bottom line is we gave him the best chance of surviving. It's all up to him to pull it together. He seemed knackered and I suppose it's only fair on him.
Quietly I hope that he'd gone by the time I turn up tomorrow morning. Although he looked peaceful with all that tubes stucked in his throat and various other orifices how would we know if every single cells in his body is actually not at peace? in contrary, screaming in agony? For some people death sneak up on them in a rather unusual way but for me, it's like being honked at the T junction when it's showing green.
I looked up in the mirror after changing the bluescrubs. Was not sure if was looking at the reflection of Lady McBeth's cousin. So so knackered.
This guy's been a boozer possible 2/3 of his 40 years of living. Came in through the door vomiting blood. He actually dropped dead following that. A proper cardiac arrest. Heart stopped beating. I have no idea why they even bringing him to here, prolonging the inevitable yet again?The only thing going for him was probably the fact that he is 40. Other than that everything was packing away on him. Liver probably cobbled with fat, gut probably necrosed away, kidney probably shrivelled away to involution and brain probably pickled and mashed.
He's gone anyway. Will always remember that milli second I shone the pen torch through his eyes. They scattered a bizarre muted but buffed reflection . Sent chills down my spine it did. It felt like looking through a deep dark hollow overgrown, abandoned well. I felt somewhat obligingly drawn into them.
Today the chap in bed 1, was slowly giving up as well. He's 87 and had a major pipeline reconstruction. Bucketloads of blood went in this guy. He must have made himself worth some few thousand pounds with that amount of blood. Bottom line is we gave him the best chance of surviving. It's all up to him to pull it together. He seemed knackered and I suppose it's only fair on him.
Quietly I hope that he'd gone by the time I turn up tomorrow morning. Although he looked peaceful with all that tubes stucked in his throat and various other orifices how would we know if every single cells in his body is actually not at peace? in contrary, screaming in agony? For some people death sneak up on them in a rather unusual way but for me, it's like being honked at the T junction when it's showing green.
I looked up in the mirror after changing the bluescrubs. Was not sure if was looking at the reflection of Lady McBeth's cousin. So so knackered.
