“Mrs. Watson? This is the hospital; your husband has expired.”
These were the cruel words, so cavalierly delivered, that greeted my mother at 4:30 a.m. last Thursday and changed her life–and mine, my sister’s and the rest of our family’s–irrevocably. The nurse used just those words, and didn’t ask if my mother were alone or not–fortunately, my sister was with her, to comfort her and to take charge during my mother’s resulting and understandable hysteria.
I wonder sometimes why some people, so obviously unsuited to a caring profession like medicine, especially direct patient-care nursing, choose such a field anyway. Throughout my dad’s long battle with kidney disease, peritonitis, and later his kidney transplant and most recently three weeks with Guillain-Barr