Another little tidbit

There is always something to be said about telling one's story. Especially important is when, in the telling, we are able to put our thoughts in order.

Sometimes, when we tell our story often enough, as has happened with P__'s death, someone will mention, "You forgot to put this down," or "But what about that?", as in "I'm not quite following this, can you clarify this point?"

Several relatives and friends (in some cases, these are one and the same) have pointed out that I neglected to add one point in the diary of what happened to P__. I intend to add that here.

On the afternoon of P__'s death, his primary care physician came in to check on him and to talk with me about P__'s prognosis. The last time I talked with Dr. ___ face-to-face was shortly before 6:00 p.m. on the 24th. I was getting ready to head home. The visiting hours in the CCU ran until 6:00 p.m., then resumed from 8:00-10:00. This way, the staff could finish charts, do end-of-shift care while the new shift came on and everyone could get a complete run-down on the patients. Very necessary, somewhat time-consuming (I imagine), very hectic. Also, I had only gotten an hour's worth of sleep the night before, so I figured I'd forgo coming back in that evening, opting for seeing P__ the next morning.

Dr. ___ arrived shortly before visiting hours were over. Around this time, a technician came in to run an EEG on P__ which a neurologist had ordered. The technician told me that he would run the EEG after I left, then immediately get the results to the neurologist. The tech was kind, asking me if I had any questions, giving me a brief run-down on the procedure.

Meanwhile, Dr. ___ proceeded to tell me, "We need to pull the plug on your husband."

"Why?" I wanted to know.

"He has no chance at all of any kind of recovery or meaningful life. He is brain-dead. We need to pull the plug now."

Hey, wait a minute. Who let him into this nightmare?

"Excuse me," I told him. "You're expecting what from me?"

"Well, we can't pull the plug without your permission. And we need to pull the plug on him now. Tonight."

I informed him that, first off, I wanted to see what the EEG showed.

"That won't change anything. He's brain-dead."

"I want to check with the neurologist."

"That won't change anything. We need to pull the plug. You need to give me permission to pull the plug." Meanwhile the two or three others (I really don't know who they were) pulled closer around him. There's strength in numbers, they seemed to be stating.

I pointed out that I needed to sleep on this and to talk with P__'s sister. Also, I was going to talk with the neurologist first. Also, if Dr. ___ couldn't pull the plug without my permission, he was not going to get it that night. End of discussion.

Sometime between 7:30 and 8:00, I called the CCU and talked with P__'s night nurse, C__. C__ mentioned that Dr. ___ had made more noise about pulling the plug. "However, the neurologist did look at your husband's EEG. If you'd like, I can page her for you so you can talk with her." I thanked C__ and told her that I wanted to talk with the neurologist.

"Good," she told me. "I promise, we won't do anything except to continue our care for P__ until after you talk with Dr. (neurologist)."

I only had to wait a few minutes for the neurologist to call back. While she said that the EEG showed little, if any, activity, she did offer me this much hope: four (4) days. As she relayed to me, "After an incident like your husband experienced, it's not uncommon to see very little brain activity." However, in her experience, the first four days after such an incident held the key: either the patient would expire on his or her own (frequently within the first 24 hours), or they would stabilize, after which it would become clear that the patient was being kept alive by machines (in which case, letting the patient go was probably the kindest thing to do), or there would be some sign of improvement. She likened it to stories most of us hear on the news during the winter months: a person will fall through the ice, remain submerged for half an hour before being pulled out, and walk out of the hospital a week later, missing only the memory of that week. "Personally, if it were my loved one," she stated, "I'd give him the four days."

After being assured that she would call the CCU immediately, I thanked her. Five minutes later, I talked to C__ in the CCU; she had just hung up with Dr. (neurologist) and agreed that I had done what she felt was best for P__: given him a chance.

Of course, he passed away at 10:44 that evening. But what really makes me angry about this is that Dr. ___ wanted to pull the plug immediately several hours earlier without hearing from the neurologist, and kept pressuring me to give him permission to do so.

And while it didn't affect the end result--P__ still died that evening--I'm still angry that Dr. ___ didn't want to at least discuss options or talk with Dr. (neuro) first.