My first day on rotations was your last day on earth.
This morning when you woke up, did you think it might be the last time?
I hope you had a nice breakfast.
Did you hear the nice ED doc’s words? Were your last conscious memories ones of being reassured/comforted?
I know I felt better when he looked at me and said “Katie? Welcome to the team.”
The team that was meant to save your life.
I find it strange that I knew your vitals, chem-7 and acid-base status but not your name.
Were your last moments stolen dignity or involuntarily surrendered intimacy?
Is this how I rationalize it to myself?
And what do I do now?
Am I left to grapple with the realities of death or am I meant to turn around and attempt to appreciate a world you are no longer a part of?
Maybe I don’t want to come to a conclusion. Maybe it will only come down to heartlessness or melancholy.
