Yesterday, they flew in a 20 year old mother who had been in an MVA, had not been wearing a seatbelt and was ejected through the windshield of the car in which she was a passenger. She was brought immediately into the OR, bilateral hemopneumothorax, liver lacs, splenic lacs, bilateral femur fractures, massive crush wounds, 80 units of blood given during the surgery. I wasn't running the OR room but was running for things near the end of the case for the nurses in the room. They did what they could, sent her to angio looking for other bleeds. She died in angio.
I was sitting at the desk waiting for my next assignment when the charge nurse came up to me. "You're probably not going to appreciate this much, but they are bringing up the woman who died and I need you to get her ready for the family to view." At that moment, no, I didn't appreciate the assignment at all. I was grumbling to my self as I started to gather wash clothes, towels, peroxide, etc. Grumble, grumble, grumble. Rotten luck.
They brought her up to a room off the main OR floor and I got a list of what the anesthesia attending wanted me to do, tie off the lines, suction the mouth, etc. He closed the door.
Suddenly just me and the body. Pulled back the sheet, I knew she would be unrecognizable to her husband and family. She was a bloody mess. I started to wash. And as I washed I started to think of all the things we think of when it's just us and the patient. I started to think about what if this was my daughter, my sister, my mother. I washed and washed. The more I worked the more I felt how important what I was doing was to her, for her family. They sent in an aide to help me, a young guy (med student or nursing student) just thrilled to be seeing it. We are a strange group, this group who works in medicine. And I started to talk to him about the fact she was 20, had a little baby, a husband, how this wasn't something "cool". And he and I talked and washed and cleaned. We combed her hair, we changed the linens, picked the newest crispest brightest gown we could find, the best blanket, changed the lighting in the room, put out boxes of Kleenex. By the time we were done we were both holding back tears for this young lady we didn't know, for her family, for her little girl. We stood back and looked at her, and then we left. I called the coroner's office, I called the state donor agency, I began to gather all the paperwork. I watched from a distance as the chaplain brought up the husband, brother, family. I watched them cry. I watched the disbelif they were feeling. The tears began to roll as I held the phone to my ear and gave information to the agencies. I hate this job, I love this job. I hope the family remains in tact. I hope this lady knew how much she was loved, and I hope she understands this nurse, who didn't want to do this task at first, became a better nurse and a better person because of the time I spent with her. The next time, if there is a next time, there will be no grumbling. This was one of the most important things I've done in a long time for a patient. I'm a little different person today. I called my son and told him I love him. I hung onto my husband last night like I may never see him again. Tell someone today how much they mean to you, there may never be a better time.
