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it was my first death.



my hands were just a few centimeters away from someone's heart. I pump it for someone who's heart doesnt have enough drive to pump for itself. why did it give up beating? why did it choose to stop? at that very moment, the reason didnt matter to me. all i wanted to happen is push that heart into beating and push it like jumpstarting a vehicle,to give them the much needed push to make them live.



epi was given. then the second. then the third. and a bunch of Medicine Rotators flocked the scene like firemen rushing to an inferno. everyone was calm. and on their senses even it was the middle of the night. and all eyes were on that patient.



clear. everybody was clear. oxygen out. and the patient received thunder. if pumping and epi was not enough, shocking him would be the last resort. two waves of electricity were given to him. and his BP rose to 140/80. He was alive, and everybody left the scene.



5 minutes later, just when I was again beside him, someone ordered me to pump again. damn it. he was dying. i can feel the sternum about to crack, but it didnt matter. having broken ribs would be a lot better than being dead. and then came another wave of epi, of shock, of pumps, and of oxygen. i can feel from the patient that he was tired. that it was just the drugs beating and not really his heart, it was just the respirator breathing and not his own lungs. making him live, this time, after the Nth attempt was like a vicous cycle. after, all, at that age, maybe he's already lived his life? maybe it's his time, this time.



the patient's relatives cannot bear watching it anymore and told us to stop. and everything was put into halt. they said, "pagpahingahin na natin si tatay"... and everybody left again.



I stayed for a while. I was looking at the ECG and watched his heart rate dwindle down as the Epi wore off. I was hearing the relatives saying goodbye and setting him off. His pulse went down, and finally, his heart stopped.



He passed away.



I didnt know what to feel. For me, he was just a bed number, and a case, and a patient that has to be monitored Q1. He was just a patient with a pontocerebellar hemorrhage. But at that moment, I realized he was once a son, once a father, once a grand father, someone's husband, someone's employer, someone's hero, someone's enemy. someone's someone's someone that became a part of himself. He was once human. Who once loved and was loved.



So before I went back, I clasped a little prayer, while staring at him. I also then asked God to give me strength and understanding for I am sure this will not be my last death, that if ever those time come again, i may be able to send them off with the least amount of pain, and the highest amount of dignity a person deserves.