It’s not only about the codes. The move to allow relatives to observe CPR comes along with broader efforts to bring families into critical care. At my hospital, we even invite family members to join us on morning rounds — an innovation I find surprisingly valuable. There is nothing like a tearful relative to keep us accountable and to remind us daily that this “great case of respiratory failure” is in fact a person. And for better or worse, that relative often provides the best continuity in a fractured medical system.
Of course we fumble from time to time. I remember an overly enthusiastic intern who once added “cancer” to a patient’s broad list of possible problems, leaving the patient’s sister panicked. Sometimes we feel the need to mince words, particularly about prognosis. Yet more often, as the days become weeks, the relatives on rounds transform into a part of our team. We greet them in the morning. We wait for them if they’re running late. But then when their loved one dies, that’s it. They disappear from our orbit — leaving me to wonder what they return to after, and whether we can support them better.
I wondered the same thing that evening, as I stood next to my patient’s wife. In the room, chest compressions were still going. The overnight attending had come in early, leaving me free to spend a few more minutes outside the room. But I wasn’t sure what to do.
“Do you want some juice?” I finally asked. She did.
“Cranberry or orange?” Inside, they paused again to check for a pulse. The next round would be the last.
She shrugged. “Cranberry.”
I grabbed the juice from the nurse’s station and brought it back to her. She took a sip. The juice was tart and her lips puckered in surprise.
“He’s not going to be O.K., is he?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Then they should stop,” she said. “I know you tried. Let them stop.”
In the room, my patient’s body was splayed out on the bed, one arm dangled off. I hoped that his wife couldn’t see him like this. I wondered if he would have even wanted her here, if he could know. “That’s enough,” I told the resident. “You did great. But his wife asked us to stop. She’s here. Outside the room.”
Source : Nytimes
