Her color drained almost instantly. Her face turned to an ash gray color. A black-green fluid bubbled out of her mouth when we pulled the vent tube. Serous fluid started to pour out of every opening in her body: eyes, nose, wounds, IV site, everywhere. Her eyes rolled back into her head; the whites also now gray. The body was already stiff from her severe third-spacing.
We tried to stop the spouts of fluid and clean her up before allowing her family to view her. People crammed into the small ICU room to say goodbye.
An hour and a half later the funeral home arrived. Her body was strapped onto a stretcher and covered with a velvet cover from the funeral home. When she was being moved, I noticed that her blood had settled to her backside, which was purple. It was still warm. Her front side was cool.
I cared for her for 3 weeks. I watched as she deteriorated. I saw her last breath.
Her family cried. Her husband hung his head.
I wasn't sad. I wasn't upset. I wanted to learn more. I watched.
I feel so eerie. Like I should feel something more. But I don't.
I had a hard time falling asleep last night.
1 comment:
My mom is a nurse. She goes into professional mode in these situations without even thinking about it. You are obviously doing what God meant if you just click over like that. My mom feels it, just in a different way, same as you. Good luck girl - you are obviously already the makings of a fine nurse.
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