Death
Today I sang to a dying woman.
People are afraid of death. Naturally, we shy away from it, and from talking about it. It's a very strange feeling to know that someone's going to die. To see the fine details of them; their eyes, focused on yours, their lipstick, the particular way they have of holding their spoon. Knowing that they're about to die is very surreal.
Her name was Rose. She was fifty three. She was suffering from advanced secondary tuberculosis in both lungs, and she could barely take a breath without coughing. She was on such a high level of oxygen that I could barely hear her over the hiss of her mask. She'd asked me to sit with her, because she knew she was about to die, and she didn't want to be alone.
I held her hand, and asked her if there was anything I could do for her. She didn't reply, so I just sat next to her, my left hand in hers, and stroking her light brown hair with the other. She was very out of it, like patients often get just as they're about to die. After a few minutes, I asked her again, and she requested that I sing for her, so I sang her the lullaby my mother used to sing to me.
Her breaths had become very irregular and less laboured - Cheyne Stoke breathing, it's called. I kept on singing right until she stopped breathing.
It wasn't my first time seeing death, not by a long way, but I've never felt so close with a patient before. I feel a little numb, and sad. Although it's upset me, I am glad that I had the experience. I understand now why the other nurses don't spend so much time with the patients. It's very painful when they die. I'll aim to find a healthy balance now. I want to be a good nurse, and I'll need to toughen up some more, considering what's ahead of me.
If I ever feel unmotivated or like I want to drop out of my course, I just think of people like Rose, who suffered so much, but could still smile at the end of everything. I hope I can smile when it's my turn to go.
People are afraid of death. Naturally, we shy away from it, and from talking about it. It's a very strange feeling to know that someone's going to die. To see the fine details of them; their eyes, focused on yours, their lipstick, the particular way they have of holding their spoon. Knowing that they're about to die is very surreal.
Her name was Rose. She was fifty three. She was suffering from advanced secondary tuberculosis in both lungs, and she could barely take a breath without coughing. She was on such a high level of oxygen that I could barely hear her over the hiss of her mask. She'd asked me to sit with her, because she knew she was about to die, and she didn't want to be alone.
I held her hand, and asked her if there was anything I could do for her. She didn't reply, so I just sat next to her, my left hand in hers, and stroking her light brown hair with the other. She was very out of it, like patients often get just as they're about to die. After a few minutes, I asked her again, and she requested that I sing for her, so I sang her the lullaby my mother used to sing to me.
Her breaths had become very irregular and less laboured - Cheyne Stoke breathing, it's called. I kept on singing right until she stopped breathing.
It wasn't my first time seeing death, not by a long way, but I've never felt so close with a patient before. I feel a little numb, and sad. Although it's upset me, I am glad that I had the experience. I understand now why the other nurses don't spend so much time with the patients. It's very painful when they die. I'll aim to find a healthy balance now. I want to be a good nurse, and I'll need to toughen up some more, considering what's ahead of me.
If I ever feel unmotivated or like I want to drop out of my course, I just think of people like Rose, who suffered so much, but could still smile at the end of everything. I hope I can smile when it's my turn to go.