It was 5:15 AM.
Her heart was racing; blood pressure rapidly climbing.
Her shoulders rising up and down asynchronous with her breathing.
No setting change in the ventilator could help make her breath easier.
Medications were given, but her body was fighting even harder.
Her brain was not in control anymore;
She was in pain. She was in agony.
A phone call was made to her family, “She is not doing well. You need to come and see her.”
At this point there was nothing more that could be done, but wait for her family to come and make a decision.
It was 6:00 AM.
I do not know what kind of a person she is, or how she lived her life, or if she believed in God, but I knew that she was loved.
It was so hard to see her suffering, knowing that there was nothing I could do to at that moment to ease her pain, but to pray for her. It reminded me of what Mother Mary must have felt as she watched her son Jesus carrying his cross, being whipped, spat at, ridiculed. I went back to my pod and prayed for her.
It was 7:15 AM.
After giving report to the morning shift, I left the department with a heavy heart, hoping that her family would make it at the bedside as she takes her last breath, hoping that her soul may find its way to rest in peace in heaven.