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The Death Of A Nurse Practitioner

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It was the winter of 2013; I could hear the beat of my heart get louder and louder as I was anxiously waiting to hear back from the doctor. Not a second went by that I was not praying for my dad’s life. Finally, a kindhearted nurse practitioners walk in the door to give us the latest update on my dad’s condition. Her optimistic words and positive attitude gave me every ounce of hope I needed to cling onto. My dad was fighting for his life in the operating room. This was his second open heart surgery caused by a rupture mitral valve. The urgency of the situation was intensified by the backflow of blood to his lungs. My family and I had no other choice but to consent to the risky operation that had only a fifty percent survival possibility. Prior to the heart attack that left him in critical state he had given up on doctor prescribed medication and instead turned to herbal therapy. He was consuming some unusual looking liquid contained in big amber bottle that he had brought back from Pakistan. Upon asking he expressed his frustration in complying with his doctor prescribed heart regimen. He said he found ease in taking the liquid herbs and also felt much better without all the side effects. At the time I tried my best to convince him of the danger of discontinuing his heart medication but all in vain. After the nightmare we all went through, he has promised to comply with his medication. He nonetheless still constantly complains about the side effects he experiences and

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