I Don't Know
I don’t think she knew when she was walking into Hospital, that would be the last thing she ever did. I don’t know if she knew she would never see her husband again. I don’t think she ever thought she would not be going back into her home again, seeing her children again. I don’t know if when she woke up that morning, it would be the last time she woke up in her own bed.
I don’t know if I’m safe. I don’t know if I will be one of the younger ones that ends up on a ventilator if I get sick. I don’t know why it’s the worst pain I have ever felt when I see my healthcare colleagues around the world dying at staggering numbers. I don’t feel that many of the people that are supposed to keep me safe will actually keep me safe. I don’t know if I’m going to kill my mom or dad because I decided to practice medicine. I don’t feel like a hero. I don’t know why science and politics ever decided to intertwine.
I don’t think she understands how sick she is. I don’t know if she understands what is about to happen to her. I don’t know if she feels as bad as her numbers look. I don’t know how scared she is. I don’t know how to explain a breathing tube in Spanish with the detail I need to. I don’t have a pen to write down her husband’s phone number on that paper towel. I don’t have the ability to pre-oxygenate her the way I want to be before I stop her breathing. I don’t fully understand the level of risk I am facing doing this. I don’t see panic and fear in her eyes anymore as the sedation has been pushed. I don’t have the ability to stop myself from bagging her after seeing that low of a pulse oximeter reading because I cannot let her die. I don’t know why she was the hardest intubation of my entire residency. I don’t want her to die like this. I don’t wish this on any fellow human.
I don’t think her family understand her prognosis. I don’t think they want to. I don’t think they realized they saw her for the last time a few days ago. I don’t think they ever deserved to have her die without them near her. I don’t know if they cried or yelled or collapsed when they changed her code status. I don’t know what they look like. I don’t want to feel this heaviness anymore. I don’t know where to put this. I just don’t know.
Share your "I Don’t Know” story in the comments section below.
Subscribe to the blog by entering your email in the subscription box below. Don't rely on Facebook to get notifications for new posts. We only email when a new post is published. No spam. If you are reading this on your phone, just keep scrolling down to get to the Subscribe box.
Give us some love by sharing the blog. Forward the blog to people you think would like it. Post the blog on social media. Like and Follow our Facebook Page. Follow us on Twitter. Follow us on Instagram
Dr. Abedi’s Bio Below
Dr. Sarah Abedi
Dr. Abedi grew up in Santa Monica, CA. Her favorite things include the ocean, all the trees and burritos.
