I finished my first call on my second day of work as a resident. It was a Sunday, and coincidentally on my 29th birthday. It does seem that medical school took up most of my 20's but I am still young (still in my 20's at least). I arrived at 7am feeling the anticipation of the day ahead. The night float team hands over the pager and summarizes the list of patients: human lives summed down to one-liners and a few lab values. Throughout the day I received floor calls from nurses concerning patients whom I had never met before. Fortunately, this first call day proved to be manageable and ‘atraumatic’ to my psyche.
She was 56 year old, and had been an uncontrolled diabetic for years. Subsequent kidney failure and a bout of hemodialysis resulted in her life and mine crossing paths. The transfer order to hospice seemed simple enough. The day spent answering pages concerning Mr. So-and-So with new onset diarrhea nearly preoccupied me indefinitely, and pass over this precious soul.
She had decided to die. The dialysis had been too hard and too uncomfortable. But more than anything, dialysis had become too hard and too uncomfortable for what life was worth. There were few friends; family relations broken years before. As my shift ended, I sat to talk for a few minutes.
How are you doing? I am scared. What are you scared of? My friends are not here to be with me. Where is your sister? She was here a few minutes and then left.
She had but a week to live given her end stage renal disease. She would be comfortable and feel no physical pain. I prayed with her and left.
As I approached my locker something seemed unfinished. I returned to her room. I asked her when it all started, and where this self-hate came from that she would let diabetes destroy her life.
It started in childhood, she said.
A relative, a cousin, whomever he was had set her life on a course of self-destruction that would eventually end her life prematurely. She surely was not entirely without fault. But there seemed something so tragic about it all.
I asked her if she really wanted to go to hospice. She thought she did. Had she truly based her decision on medical facts, and with a competent, healthy mind? Or had she simply just woken up one morning to see nothing worth living for?
Surely counseling would help. A pastor could be called. Surely she could keep living and fighting? I asked her if she had any bitterness or unforgiveness towards someone else. She said no. I asked her if she wanted to pray. She said, yes. Her prayer was absolutely beautiful. She did not want to go to hell; she did not want God mad at her. She asked for her sister to come back and be with her. She wanted to know God was not mad.
No. You are wonderful, a very beautiful person. You are special. You are a good person.
This lady, whom had not yet cried, began to shed tears. We embraced, and then left.
What could I do? I was only cross-covering the teaching service for a few hours on a weekend call. I wonder how many people go through life without self-worth and without God-given worth, only to travel down the dark road of self-destruction. Blood sugar for some; alcohol for another; bitterness for even more. God, use me to help others out of the lonely road. Sins have consequences; forgiveness and redemption brings freedom and life. Freedom and life. I would like to think that she could have know a sense of freedom and life even as a disabled, crippled person dependant on a dialysis machine three times a week. O God, use me to help others out of the lonely road. Keep us all out of the lonely road.
May God give her peace tonight.
Jesus answered them, ‘Truly, truly I say to you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son remains forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
She was 56 year old, and had been an uncontrolled diabetic for years. Subsequent kidney failure and a bout of hemodialysis resulted in her life and mine crossing paths. The transfer order to hospice seemed simple enough. The day spent answering pages concerning Mr. So-and-So with new onset diarrhea nearly preoccupied me indefinitely, and pass over this precious soul.
She had decided to die. The dialysis had been too hard and too uncomfortable. But more than anything, dialysis had become too hard and too uncomfortable for what life was worth. There were few friends; family relations broken years before. As my shift ended, I sat to talk for a few minutes.
How are you doing? I am scared. What are you scared of? My friends are not here to be with me. Where is your sister? She was here a few minutes and then left.
She had but a week to live given her end stage renal disease. She would be comfortable and feel no physical pain. I prayed with her and left.
As I approached my locker something seemed unfinished. I returned to her room. I asked her when it all started, and where this self-hate came from that she would let diabetes destroy her life.
It started in childhood, she said.
A relative, a cousin, whomever he was had set her life on a course of self-destruction that would eventually end her life prematurely. She surely was not entirely without fault. But there seemed something so tragic about it all.
I asked her if she really wanted to go to hospice. She thought she did. Had she truly based her decision on medical facts, and with a competent, healthy mind? Or had she simply just woken up one morning to see nothing worth living for?
Surely counseling would help. A pastor could be called. Surely she could keep living and fighting? I asked her if she had any bitterness or unforgiveness towards someone else. She said no. I asked her if she wanted to pray. She said, yes. Her prayer was absolutely beautiful. She did not want to go to hell; she did not want God mad at her. She asked for her sister to come back and be with her. She wanted to know God was not mad.
No. You are wonderful, a very beautiful person. You are special. You are a good person.
This lady, whom had not yet cried, began to shed tears. We embraced, and then left.
What could I do? I was only cross-covering the teaching service for a few hours on a weekend call. I wonder how many people go through life without self-worth and without God-given worth, only to travel down the dark road of self-destruction. Blood sugar for some; alcohol for another; bitterness for even more. God, use me to help others out of the lonely road. Sins have consequences; forgiveness and redemption brings freedom and life. Freedom and life. I would like to think that she could have know a sense of freedom and life even as a disabled, crippled person dependant on a dialysis machine three times a week. O God, use me to help others out of the lonely road. Keep us all out of the lonely road.
May God give her peace tonight.
Jesus answered them, ‘Truly, truly I say to you, everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin. The slave does not remain in the house forever; the son remains forever. So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
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