Doctors Aren’t God

A man in his mid seventies was admitted to our intensive care unit at Frick Hospital, Mt. Pleasant, Pennsylvania. He was admitted multiple times in the past for his diabetes, CHF, and kidney failure. This time he was admitted with sepsis. Because of his other problems the physician’s aggressive treatment didn’t seem to be making headway. He wasn’t responding to the medications and treatments and was placed on a ventilator in an attempt to gain time for the treatments to take hold.

He had five adult children. Each one was very high strung and emotional. Naturally they were worried about their father and asked the doctor about his chances for getting well. The doctor said, “I don’t think he will pull through this time. He’s very ill.”

There were a few tears, but knowing the family, it was reasonable. One of the daughters pressed, “How long, doctor?”

The doctor replied, “I don’t know. It could be two days or it could be two weeks.”

The next day their father arrested and could not be revived. Once the code was over and the family was allowed into the unit to see their father, one daughter threw herself on her father’s bed and shrieked, “You promised me two weeks! You promised me two weeks!”

That started the rest of the family gesticulating wildly and weeping. One of the sons started to rip off his shirt before leaving the hospital. The others left behind were screaming for their father to “Wake up!”

At that time with a doctor’s order we could get Valium pills to medicate grieving family members to dull the intensity of the blow. The doctor could fill out a form and we fetched the medication from the pharmacy. We filled glasses of water and handed the doctor the pills. He moved among the mourners passing out the water and pills like a priest dispensing the sacraments of wine and wafers. Some left to go home, a few stayed for awhile until their emotions drained and the Valium took effect.

Through the grapevine I heard one son was so emotionally distraught that at home, he picked up a shovel and smashed out the windows of his car. In my thirty-six years of nursing, this was the most bizarre outburst of grief that I’d ever seen.