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Monday, December 20, 2004

Clemency

Every morning, I walk into Patient C's room, and every morning I am disappointed to discover that she is still alive.

Patient C suffered a major stroke that left her with only primitive neurologic functions. In this deconditioned state, her bilateral leg ulcers have progressed to full thickness skin necrosis and began to invade into her muscle. Amputations of both legs would stop the progression of her gangrenous necrosis, but she would never survive the operation. She has bacteremia from her leg ulcers, is dependent on the ventilator, dependent on vasopressors, and dependent on hemodialysis. Her heart and body would never tolerate the stress of an operation. If we don't operate, she will die. But she will die during an operation if we try.

Our antibiotics and medicines are fighting a losing battle. Each day she comes closer to that point where no amount of technology or medical science will be able to compensate for her illness. There is nothing more that can be done. Patient C will never recover. Patient C is slowly dying. But her family won't acknowlege that fact. They are not ready to accept her fate. So instead of allowing Patient C to pass on, we keep her alive artificially because she never left a living will. Her family urges us to keep her alive.

I wish that her family can see the reality of her situation and withdraw the harsh mechanical support of her fading life. To let her pass on with honor and dignity. To allow a woman of 76 years to spend the last days of her life without suffering. Without being forced to live by our machines and our medicines. But they won't. Her family will never concede.

So Patient C spends her last hours slowly dying in an ICU bed. Surrounded by cold, unfeeling machines. Connected to yards of plastic tubing and wires. Suffering from a prolonged death because her family is unable to accept her inevitable fate.

Every morning, I walk into Patient C's room, and every morning I am disappointed to discover that she is still alive.