New Years Day Reflection

On November 22 of this year, I witnessed firsthand my grandfather’s birth to eternal life. After a fall knocked James Berka unconscious, emergency responders arrived; my grandpa had been oxygen deprived for only a few short minutes but was ultimately declared brain dead. As my family and I spent our final moments with him before he would be removed from life support, many tears were shed. However, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief and closure for my grandpa. As he lay in the hospital bed totally oblivious to life, he was immune to the side effects of Parkinson’s, a disease he had battled for many years towards the end of his life. At that moment, my grandpa was not swaying uncontrollably nor struggling to articulate a single sentence.

May 15, 2014 I hear my grandpa calling my name from my room upstairs. I walk down stairs and he tells me my dad’s had an accident. At this point I think my dad’s dead, because of how my grandpa word’s it, and my initial shock, but he’s alive. He was living in Virginia with my sister when it happened, so we leave for Virginia that night. We make it there the next afternoon and I finally get to see my dad. It was a challenge seeing a loved one with hundreds of tubes coming out of them, hearing that he might not make it through the night, and if he does he might not be able to see and so on. Seeing what at this point didn’t even really resemble my dad was very challenging.

They (my family and doctors), for the first night, weren’t sure if I would make it or not. I was touch and go, because my oxygen level couldn’t be stabilized. I would be on oxygen and my level would be normal, but as soon as they took me off, my level would fall again. However, they had to stabilize me before they could do any kind of surgery. During this time, I think my dad as well as everyone involved got a taste of what it means that any moment, any day could be anyone’s final moment. My dad stayed every night with me. The first night, my heart quit beating twice. The first time, my dad said, “She’s a fighter, she can get through this.”. Then it happened again and my dad fell on his knees saying, “God, please don’t take her now!”. I ended up practically living in SICU for 3½ weeks, just trying to become stable enough, so I could make it somewhere else. Both my mom and dad had to become durable power of attorneys, so they could decide what my treatments would

I received the news, that my mother had no chance to live and one doctor, placed his hand on my shoulder and sighed loudly with discomfort. He said,” she is not a candidate for any treatment.” I stormed into the ICU room, and held my mother’s hand; she glared at me, unconsciously. I couldn't help but hold back my emotions, so I could be strong for our family. As my eyes were helplessly filling up with tears, I couldn't help but to look around at the doctors and nurses working diligently, and doing the best they could for my mother. At the moment, I remembered the sacrifices that were made to help my mother and how saving lives was my calling from God. Thankfully, my mother survives but only at a twenty percent ejection

Per the National Center for Biotechnology Information (NCBI), a diagnosis of brain death is considered legally and clinically dead. It is evidenced by coma, absence of brainstem reflexes and apnea, and is defined as an irreversible loss of brain function. (Brain Death) As a healthcare provider, it can be easy to make a

Finally, as he abruptly snapped out of his daze, he gazing at me with his deep brown eyes and sighed, "The doctors admitted my dad to Hospice today." Once those disheartening words left his mouth, his face became distraught, his eyes turned dark and droopy, his nose became stuffy, and his lips tensed tightly. Hunching over his long legs, tears began pouring out of his saddened eyes onto his freshly-ironed clothes. My heart crumbled as Grant Oubre, my consoler and companion, was crying beside me. I did not know how to comfort him much less myself; I was in complete and utter shock. As he pulled himself together, he glanced at me once again with his sagging eyes and melancholic expression as he said, "Hospice is where they make you comfortable

Health, M. (n.d.). Brain Death vs. Persistent Vegetative State: What is the Legal Difference? Retrieved August 29, 2015

To this date, it was the worst phone call of my life. I was informed my father and stepmother were in a motorcycle accident in Florida where they retired for the winter. My stepmother was expected to have a painful, long recovery, as she suffered from multiple fractures to her face, a dislocated jaw, and pelvis that was broken in 3 places, plus many small cuts and bruises. My father, however, had not awakened after the accident and we should get to the hospital in Florida as soon as possible. My brother, his wife, and I booked flights and we were on our way they next day. It was not how I expected to spend Easter. The next four days were a blur. We met with doctors and nurses and didn’t feel like we had any answers to the real condition of our father. We knew of his injuries but not what they meant to his future. He had bruising between the hemispheres of his brain, on the outside of the brain, bruising on his brainstem, and multiple open fractures on the left side of his body. I couldn’t get any of his doctors to tell me their opinion on his prognosis. They would only say, “we need another 48 hours”. The only thing I could think was, “if you knew my dad, he would hate this. You life flighted him, now he’s hook to machinery to breath, and all he would have wanted was to have the ambulance run him over and put him out of his misery”. We knew my father’s wishes and they didn’t look anything like

Reality set in at this moment and I raced over to my brother and embraced him to let him know everything was ok. He looked up at me and asked me if dad was going to die. I remember fighting back my tears and telling him that our daddy was super strong like a superhero and that he was going to be just fine. After a distressing three hours passed I was finally allowed to go back and see my dad. He was lying in a bed almost lifeless. At that moment, they did not know if he was going to have brain damage or if he was going to live through the night. He was covered from head to toe in blood, cuts, and bruises. I could overhear my mom yelling at a nurse at the station asking why they weren’t doing surgery or helping my dad. The nurse asked her to calm down and explained that the head injury my dad suffered from being thrown into a metal telephone pole was extensive and the doctor was examining the x-rays before they could do

After seeing several patients the team finally went in to see my eighty-three year old female who was in the hospital after suffering an ischemic stroke. As always I went in prepared: I had read about ischemic strokes, brushed up on my pathophysiology and was ready to make suggestions about what further work-up would be necessary! Our team, which was made up of a pharmacist, social worker, two geriatric fellows, and an attending geriatrician, all filed into the room as we did every day for rounds. However, instead of talking about the tests that we would run today and the lab results that had returned this morning, we all looked at each other and began to sing “Happy Birthday.” The patient’s face lit up and I remember feeling this overwhelming sense of happiness. Yes, I had arrived at the hospital before the sun was up, and tucked in my white coat was my perfectly crafted plan, which I was prepared to recite chapter and verse, but instead there we were a team of healthcare professionals, all singing. As I stood there singing I looked around the room and I was overcome with relief; because in that moment I knew these were the type of people I wanted to sit with at the lunch

That first day, we drove him to the community medical centre despite it being less than a five minute walk away. At just 52 years old he could barely walk. His shuffled slowly from the car on shaking legs. A dull silence fell as we sat in the waiting room, I placed a reassuring hand on my fathers withered knee while he stared into the near distance, barely acknowledging my touch, mute and withdrawn. He smelled of urine and booze, of unclean clothes, the toll that comes from

At the end of a busy day, my father calls and says that my mother is very sick. She had been in the hospital for intravenous fluids. I could tell by his tone of voice that something was gravely wrong. I rushed to the hospital to find my mother barely able to breathe. Her nurse was racing to control her breathing while giving her a diuretic. My mother is a very small person and the nurse had ascertained the fact that she was given too much fluid. She was in fluid overload. Her nurse had just saved my mother’s life. All the while, he was able to comfort my father and reassure me. He

Finally, the nurse came and allowed us entrance to one of our worst nightmares. There the whole family stood with the understanding that they were taking the ventilator off and this could be the last time we would ever see this amazing woman. Each grandchild took their time getting one last hug and saying goodbye. I stood waiting my turn thinking how could I ever possibly whisper into words the gratitude and admiration I had for this wonderful woman. The whole room was on edge trying to be strong for each other. Eventually it was my Aunt Julia’s turn. As she stood there holding my grandmother’s hand crying saying, “Momma, it’s your little girl, please wake up, I know you can do it, you’re strong enough”. I thought my heart would explode. Then, as my dad, the strongest man I know, went over to pull her away from the bedside he began to sob as well. This was almost unbearable to witness without making a scene. I gazed out the window with a desire to be anywhere but in that horribly bleak room facing this unimaginable tragedy with my family that was full of life and laughter. When my Aunt Julia finally was composed once again and acknowledged once again that this was God’s will she said fo the last time, “It’s okay, I understand you are tired. I love you”. The whole room seemed to begin to spin and true mourning was awaken in my soul for this amazingly wonderful woman that held such a

Collapsed. 3rd January 2015, I was awoken by the hysteric screams of my mother coming from her bedroom. I rushed in just to see the sight in front which overwhelmed me with waves of anguish. My father collapsed on the floor. foaming. My tearing mother by his side screaming out "995!". The following crucial hours felt like days as I followed my dad who was rushed to the A&E department - my world just took a 360 Degrees change. The A&E department diagnosed that my father was struck down by an Acute Ischemic Stroke, killing off his entire Cerebellum, severely reducing his cognitive abilities. My father was bed-ridden, unable to speak and control his movements properly. Reality struck me, my beloved father will never to be like normal as he was

After three days they took him out of the coma. When he tried to eat he could not find his mouth he put the spoon to his chin so I assisted his hand to his mouth. Mantis became a little upset saying I can feed myself I’m not handicapped. Giving him the spoon we watched as he repeatedly put the spoon to his chin time and time again. Anna expressed her feelings, Dad you can’t find your mouth how are you going to feed yourself let us help you until you are better it’s okay to need some help you just had surgery. Anna tried feeding him again he took the first bite then said no, I want my wife to do it. Gladly I take the spoon and finish feeding my husband. Betty and I looked at each other we both knew and said softly at the same time, he had a stroke. Again Betty, Margret, Anna and I were discussing what had happened to Mantis and that goofy looking doctor was denying it. Mantis began to tell us some of the things he remembered we asked if he knew what had happened to him. He knew he fell but his timing was mixed up whether he fell first and then had the surgery. We had to remind him that he fell after the surgery not