Death and Taxes

I experienced my first patient death this morning. It was expected, so no crazy medical drama. But his family had left the night before, and he was alone, and I found myself spending a lot of time in his room, measuring his breaths, watching them become further apart as his O2 sats dropped and his pulse got weak and thready. I was with him when he took his last breath. I turned off his oxygen and removed his mask, washed his face and combed his hair, and straightened his blankets. I placed boxes of tissues in his room for his family to use when they arrived. It was a strange experience, humbling, extraordinary and mundane all at the same time. It felt like such an exceptional moment, but outside his room, life in the hospital went on as normal.

Another patient was suffering from unexplained nausea and vomiting, and had spent the night hurling his guts out. He was obviously miserable and scared. He asked for his nurse, and I told him she was with another patient but would be with him as soon as she could, and he said, "I should be her number one patient; I've got to be the sickest person here." My other patient died less than thirty minutes later.

In unrelated news, I realized later in the morning that April 15 was two days ago, and I haven't paid our state taxes yet. All things considered, I've decided not to freak out about it.