exercising my literacy

Little deaths.

A patient of ours died last night, unexpectedly.

I was told this morning. It was announced as though a tennis game on TV the night before - "did you hear about Mr X?". As the news sunk in, the man I saw yesterday, now - gone - it took all of me not to cry. I didn't want to seem naive or unprofessional - only later did I realise the folly in associating callousness with professionalism.

I went down to medical records to read the notes documenting his last hours. It didn't really provide much answers. There was a brief final comment by nursing - "Wife came to view body. Wedding ring returned."

That evening, I'd spoken to his wife only hours before. Back when talking to her was all part of my day. Explaining this, organising that. All routine - administrative, even.

She broke down in the corridor today, the nurses attempting to comfort her. I couldn't look at her. It was all too real.

I don't know what I'm more afraid of - upcoming days where I would feel this sorrow again, or the day when I will no longer feel anything at all.

posted by me. @ 7:32 PM