Through my work, I care for patients and families who are victims of trauma and sudden illness. The suddeness in which these events occur create stressful and tragic circumstances for the family. These are often the most difficult cases to not take home. While I am usually able to separate myself from others’ pain, there are times when this just isn’t possible.

Just a child

The pallaitive care service received a consult on a young person, stated to be in their 20s, who was the victim of a serious injury. After a thorough case review, I arrived on the unit to learn that this person was really no more than a child, close in age as my oldest son. Looking at their perfectly intact, healthy body, I imagined them playing basketball with their friends, roaming the halls of their high school and attending prom. And then I pictured my own son lying there. This was almost more than I could bear. But I shoved it down and did what I am trained to do…support families through difficult times.

I introduced myself to the father. He seemed so strong and stoic but I could only imagine how shattered he must have been on the inside. Knowing this child’s prognosis was dismal, I sat about on the journey to get to know this family and their child, to earn their trust and learn what was most important to them. Over the course of a few weeks, I met regularly with this family, providing updates and ensuring they understood all that they needed to know to make the best possible decisions. As the child failed to recover and their condition worsened, we walked through what their life was likely to look like. They would likely be confined to a bed, dependent on a ventilator to breathe, fed through a tube and lacking the cognitive ability to communicate or experience emotion. What most people would consider a “vegetable.” That would be this beautiful child’s life.

Difficult choices

At one point the father looked at me and said, “They are treating them like an adult. They are not. That is my baby. And I am just not ready to give up the hope that they might get better.” His rational brain understood that his beautiful child would never be the same, that they would never experience a quality of life that he knew they deserved. But his heart just simply could not let go yet. “Someday, I will have to face their sisters. When they ask me why, I want to be able to tell them that I did everything I could for them.” Eventually, they were declared clinically brain dead. Through the gift of organ donation, that beautiful child gave life to countless others.

Perspective

Palliative care is not about what I want or what I know an outcome may or may not be for someone facing serious illness. Palliative care is about empathy and compassion for others. Sometimes that means I must sit in a space with a family that confronts me with the hard realities of life. In order to understand I sometimes must put myself in the painful circumstances of others. I have to imagine what it must be like to walk in their shoes. These are the hard days. But these are also the blessings that come from doing this work. I get to go home to my beautiful, whole boys. And while they test me often with their teenage shenanigans, in the whole scheme of things, these things are miniscule. Walking through life and death with others every day provides a life perspective that is humbling and illuminates what is truly important in my own life. And for that, I am grateful.

Revelation 21:4 “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

(Age, gender and diagnosis have been changed to preserve privacy.)