Experienced it myself more than enough times.

But I won't post it. You'll have to trust that I remember it. An eight year old girl had come into the ER in the early morning and was seen by our very best ER physician. Low grade fever for two days, aching, coughing, typical virus stuff. Being cognizant of the overuse of antibiotics (and having the patient present with classic viral symptoms) the physician did not prescribe antibiotics. Instead he gave the girl's mother instructions which included bed rest, plenty of fluids and to return if any new symptoms occurred or if she got worse.

Around 11 pm her mother brought her back to the ER in acute distress. I was a phlebot back then and was walking through the ER on the way to parking lot and I saw a friend and ER tech come bolting into the ER yelling he needed physicians in trauma room 1 immediately. My wife was an RN working that night, saw the patient entering the ER and yelled at me to draw a host of blood tests. She said, "I know you're off, but we can't wait for one of the other lab techs." The ER stocked blood drawing equipment so I started gathering it as I was being hollered at for what tests were needed. I went to the girl's gurney (there were already three physicians and three or four nurses huddled around her). A trauma surgeon stuck a large gauge needle into the girl's tibia and started massively pumping IV fluid into her marrow. Other IV's were started and run wide open. I got up to the head of the gurney, placed a tourniquet around her arm, looked into the little girl's eyes and said, "Hi xxxx, I'm Mike and I'm going to need to take a little blood from your arm. You'll feel a sharp pinch, okay?" She looked at me and nodded. I had already wiped a rather largish vein with an alcohol rub but when I looked back at the arm immediately after seeing the little girl nod, the vein was absolutely gone. I looked back at the little girl and she was unresponsive.

I had the reputation back then of being the best stick in the house (I'd actually done a femoral blood draw during a code when two surgeons couldn't get blood), but I could not find a vein on this little girl. I said, "I can't find a vein! I'm not going to be able to draw any blood." One of the physicians had been putting in an arterial line and he said, "I'm not surprised. She's shutting down. I have a line, give me a syringe." Then one of the nurses keeping track of fluids said, "She's had almost five litres and hasn't voided." One the physicians said, "We need a cath." My wife and another nurse began to try to insert a catheter to drain the little girl's bladder and all of a sudden, with numerous needles stuck into her, a cath kit half inserted, the little girl opened her eyes wide, sat up and bellowed, "I have to pee!" Somebody slipped a bed pan under her, she collapsed and that was it. She flat-lined at that very moment. No more than five minutes had passed since I'd spoken to the little girl and she responded to me and she was dead. We (the staff) were all very distraught.

The Worst Bit
The layout of the ER was such that you could walk through Trauma 1 and Trauma 2 and circle back around to the front of ER (where I'd seen the little girl entering). I went that way to go back to the lab to stage the blood I'd collected from the trauma surgeon. As I walked past Trauma 1 which was open to the hallway, I saw the little girl's mother standing there with her hands covering her mouth. She had been present, watching as we all scrambled to try to save the little girl's life and failed. I didn't see the woman's face. Only her profile. But that image has been with me since that night nearly forty years ago.

As I came back through the ER on my way out I saw my wife. I said to her, "You know, as I was leaving I saw the little girl's mother. She was watching us." My wife replied, "I know. I brought her back." Incredulous, I asked, "Why did you do that?" Her reply gave me chills. She'd immediately assessed the situation and said she went to get the mother "because she needed to be able to say good-bye." Jesus, I'm welling up even now writing this. I continue to be astounded by the presence my wife demonstrated in that moment. But for me, seeing that mother with her hands covering her mouth is the stuff from which my nightmares are made.

The bus accident. Most of you already know parts of the story, if not, I saw somebody get run over by a bus. Truth is, I don't actually remember what I saw of her after the bus ran over her; it's like a picture with the center cut out of it.

What I do remember is that I went and stood between her remains and the front door of the bus (so along the side of the bus) to stand between what was there and the people coming off the bus, thinking to block the view. I was trying to direct people to head away from me towards the corner to wait for the police to show up. Of course, if somebody starts talking to you as you're getting off a bus, you're going to turn your head and look at them. If I'd thought about it, I would have stood directly in front of the door and pointed away from the body. Instead, I now have a memory of all the faces of people as they got off the bus, looked at me, and I could see them each seeing her body.

Knowing I scarred those people, even if it was with good intentions, that sticks with me. I've not witnessed that much death - the death of a cat that I cared about, and the death of my grandfather. Neither of those were anywhere near as traumatic. Still, it's three deaths too many, along with all the others.

Post #437,506 by InThane 12/7/20 1:14:17 PM 12/7/20 1:14:17 PM Reply	Experienced it myself more than enough times. Death does indeed suck - and it seems that the less traumatic it is to the person who is having it happen to them, the more traumatic it is to those around them. Not always an equal tradeoff, but I've seen instant death, and I've seen slow lingering deaths. use std::option::sig
Post #437,508 by mmoffitt 12/7/20 3:12:03 PM 12/7/20 3:12:03 PM Reply	I remember the name of the person whose death was the worst I've witnessed. But I won't post it. You'll have to trust that I remember it. An eight year old girl had come into the ER in the early morning and was seen by our very best ER physician. Low grade fever for two days, aching, coughing, typical virus stuff. Being cognizant of the overuse of antibiotics (and having the patient present with classic viral symptoms) the physician did not prescribe antibiotics. Instead he gave the girl's mother instructions which included bed rest, plenty of fluids and to return if any new symptoms occurred or if she got worse. Around 11 pm her mother brought her back to the ER in acute distress. I was a phlebot back then and was walking through the ER on the way to parking lot and I saw a friend and ER tech come bolting into the ER yelling he needed physicians in trauma room 1 immediately. My wife was an RN working that night, saw the patient entering the ER and yelled at me to draw a host of blood tests. She said, "I know you're off, but we can't wait for one of the other lab techs." The ER stocked blood drawing equipment so I started gathering it as I was being hollered at for what tests were needed. I went to the girl's gurney (there were already three physicians and three or four nurses huddled around her). A trauma surgeon stuck a large gauge needle into the girl's tibia and started massively pumping IV fluid into her marrow. Other IV's were started and run wide open. I got up to the head of the gurney, placed a tourniquet around her arm, looked into the little girl's eyes and said, "Hi xxxx, I'm Mike and I'm going to need to take a little blood from your arm. You'll feel a sharp pinch, okay?" She looked at me and nodded. I had already wiped a rather largish vein with an alcohol rub but when I looked back at the arm immediately after seeing the little girl nod, the vein was absolutely gone. I looked back at the little girl and she was unresponsive. I had the reputation back then of being the best stick in the house (I'd actually done a femoral blood draw during a code when two surgeons couldn't get blood), but I could not find a vein on this little girl. I said, "I can't find a vein! I'm not going to be able to draw any blood." One of the physicians had been putting in an arterial line and he said, "I'm not surprised. She's shutting down. I have a line, give me a syringe." Then one of the nurses keeping track of fluids said, "She's had almost five litres and hasn't voided." One the physicians said, "We need a cath." My wife and another nurse began to try to insert a catheter to drain the little girl's bladder and all of a sudden, with numerous needles stuck into her, a cath kit half inserted, the little girl opened her eyes wide, sat up and bellowed, "I have to pee!" Somebody slipped a bed pan under her, she collapsed and that was it. She flat-lined at that very moment. No more than five minutes had passed since I'd spoken to the little girl and she responded to me and she was dead. We (the staff) were all very distraught. The Worst Bit The layout of the ER was such that you could walk through Trauma 1 and Trauma 2 and circle back around to the front of ER (where I'd seen the little girl entering). I went that way to go back to the lab to stage the blood I'd collected from the trauma surgeon. As I walked past Trauma 1 which was open to the hallway, I saw the little girl's mother standing there with her hands covering her mouth. She had been present, watching as we all scrambled to try to save the little girl's life and failed. I didn't see the woman's face. Only her profile. But that image has been with me since that night nearly forty years ago. As I came back through the ER on my way out I saw my wife. I said to her, "You know, as I was leaving I saw the little girl's mother. She was watching us." My wife replied, "I know. I brought her back." Incredulous, I asked, "Why did you do that?" Her reply gave me chills. She'd immediately assessed the situation and said she went to get the mother "because she needed to be able to say good-bye." Jesus, I'm welling up even now writing this. I continue to be astounded by the presence my wife demonstrated in that moment. But for me, seeing that mother with her hands covering her mouth is the stuff from which my nightmares are made. bcnu, Mikem It's mourning in America again.
Post #437,517 by crazy 12/7/20 5:03:06 PM 12/7/20 5:03:06 PM Reply	Thank you
Post #437,519 by dmcarls 12/7/20 5:09:43 PM 12/7/20 5:09:43 PM Reply	Re: I remember the name of the person whose death was the worst I've witnessed. Thank you. I'm amazed that you get through the day. The Healer’s Burden: Stories and Poems of Professional Grief https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08M2LSFDW/?coliid=I2LFM28P4926EH&colid=8RC1SG7KC9EF&psc=1&ref_=lv_ov_lig_dp_it
Post #437,521 by InThane 12/7/20 5:29:09 PM 12/7/20 5:29:09 PM Reply	Mine. The bus accident. Most of you already know parts of the story, if not, I saw somebody get run over by a bus. Truth is, I don't actually remember what I saw of her after the bus ran over her; it's like a picture with the center cut out of it. What I do remember is that I went and stood between her remains and the front door of the bus (so along the side of the bus) to stand between what was there and the people coming off the bus, thinking to block the view. I was trying to direct people to head away from me towards the corner to wait for the police to show up. Of course, if somebody starts talking to you as you're getting off a bus, you're going to turn your head and look at them. If I'd thought about it, I would have stood directly in front of the door and pointed away from the body. Instead, I now have a memory of all the faces of people as they got off the bus, looked at me, and I could see them each seeing her body. Knowing I scarred those people, even if it was with good intentions, that sticks with me. I've not witnessed that much death - the death of a cat that I cared about, and the death of my grandfather. Neither of those were anywhere near as traumatic. Still, it's three deaths too many, along with all the others. use std::option::sig

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