Aida Zabidi
It is too easy to question if I am walking along the right path.

Too easy to forget that you are indirectly responsible for the life of others. 

I had a patient recently that ended up in the general ward when he truly needed ICU care. Due to the overburdened state of the hospital that particular day, he somehow ended up in the ward - intubated, sedated and hanging on with triple inotropes - heavy duty drugs that kept his heart pumping and blood pressure holding.

I spent most of my day hovering over the uncle's bedside, keeping an eye on his blood pressure to make sure that his condition remained stable. I remember calling the anaesthetic team again and again, asking if there was a bed free for us to transfer him, telling them the dire situation - how unstable he was.

We had to shock him twice in the morning - never a good sign - and true enough, the team and I ended up CPR-ing and attempting to resuscitate him for over an hour that evening. We ended up being forced to admit that it would not be possible to sustain the resuscitation efforts any longer - and after speaking to his wife, she agreed to let him go peacefully.

It never fails to move me when I see the family of patients have their last moments with their loved ones. The ones who sit quietly, holding the hand of their loved ones as they slowly slip away. The way their grief is expressed, and I somehow feel for their loss more keenly than I expected to.

I am still new to the profession - not yet hard, not yet jaded. 

I still remember the first time a patient of mine passed away, and still remember the words of my specialist at the time - "Remember the feeling. You shouldn't learn not to feel."

It is too common to become conditioned to the fact that our patients are more than just the illness that seems to define them every time they are admitted to the ward. It is too easy to see them as just another person occupying a bed that you sorely need for another patient, and all too easy to forget that they too have their own life, and their own stories, and their own families who are affected by their passing.

I felt that day.

I remembered the words said long ago, and I'm thankful that I haven't lost that compassion. 

I may still question if it is my fate to be in the medical profession, but I am here now - and while I am, I will do the best I can.

I still remember what it feels like to feel. 
2 Responses
  1. Anonymous Says:

    Are u khaidatul nisa?? Do u have skype acc??

  2. Yes I am, and yes I do - but I don't really want to give it out. Who is this?

    You can reach me through private message at my Twitter account.

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