Re: Neuro ICU - Do you talk to brain-dead patients?
Almost 11 years ago now, my cousin (17 at the time, and he might as well have been my brother) was admitted to the CCU at Sick Kids in Toronto after a near drowning. It was one of those freak accidents; he was under no more than 5 minutes, but he was completely brain dead as a result. My aunt and uncle were in France at the time, and the rest of our family is spread around the States and Canada, so it took a day or so for everyone to get there - my family was one of the first to arrive.
The way his nurses treated him is a huge part of the reason that I became a PICU nurse after graduating. I ended up unofficially being the "death and dying" nurse in our PICU, and I dealt with many brain dead children in just 2 years. I know exactly how much work and technology goes into sustaining those kiddos until support is withdrawn, especially if they're going to donate. Sometimes it feels like there's nowhere to turn around in their rooms.
But I remember Johnny's room so clearly. The nurse had all the pumps and wires tucked away behind his bed. The curtains were open to let in the sunshine, and she moved quietly around his bed, putting lotion on his hands and vaseline on his lips, chatting to him. "It's a beautiful day, Johnny. Your cousin is here to see you. She wants to say goodbye. Everyone's here to say goodbye."
I knew that he was dead. We all did, and his nurse, even though she talked to him, reinforced that by "telling" him that we were there to say goodbye. Every single time I take care of a brain dead or otherwise dying patient, I think of her. And I always talk, as long as it's a family that understands what's going on, that brain dead is dead. As others have said before, if it's a family who isn't getting it or can't let go of their hope, I'll tailor my interactions to whatever is going to make the experience easiest for them. I think that only happened once; every other time, I've been part of withdrawls on brain dead kids who I've spent the day talking to, singing lullabyes to, and praying over if the family wants me to.
I've spent the last 11 years wishing I knew who that nurse was that took care of my cousin and wishing I could thank her for what she did for me and for my family by talking to my cousin. "It's a beautiful day, Johnny."
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