My View of Life - Never Better!

A Bad Day

Have any of you ever had such a bad day that even decades later the events of that day return to haunt you? Have any of you had a decision placed before you which you knew could be very detrimental, and yet you did it anyhow?

I'm sure most of you haven't, but, I regret to inform you, I've done both, and more times than I'd like to admit.

It was a busy shift in the ER--chaotic would be more appropriate. I had five patients that were sick and injured. I was behind in their care, and was endeavoring to relieve pain, nausea/vomiting, and other symptoms.

It was then that these unsavory words penetrated my ears. "Can you come interpret for me?" Ugh! I'd heard that phrase a million times. I wasn't sure if speaking Spanish was a blessing or a curse." Please," the nurse was nearly begging. "The parents of this nine year old girl are hysterical. If you'll just tell them their child had a seizure and will be drowsy for a while, but will wake up and be fine. Of course she'll need some follow up,you know, blood work, EEG, well, you know the drill."

Yes, I knew the drill, and I had a bad feeling about it. The little girl had no definitive diagnosis. I would be shooting in the dark, but in spite of all the red flags, I hustled over to the little girl's bedside.

I was taken back when I saw her.Such beautiful facial features, long dark flowing hair, her hands folded across her lap, and . . . she looked so peaceful. I quickly explained the post-ictal stage of seizures to the parents. How their little girl would be drowsy for a few hours, but would gradually wake up, and be her normal sweet self.

Relief spread across their faces. It was heart-warming for me, and for the moment I felt reassured. I gave them a little more instruction on follow up seizure care, and some of the precautions, then beat it back to my own patients.

About an hour and a half later, I looked up. The ER Physician and that nurse were standing across from the patient I was caring for. Their expressions were anything but reassuring. The Dr. motioned for me to slip into the hallway. "We've found a nine centimeter tumor in the little girl's brain," he explained. "It's inoperable. She will not survive."

My brief euphoria plummeted into oblivion, as I internalized the imbroglio in front of me. I felt like screaming inside. I wanted to put my foot down, and demand another interpreter be found. "This is not my responsibility," I'd declare. But I couldn't. It would take time to find another interpreter. The parents deserved the truth, and I was paid extra for the interpreting service.It was my responsibility. "Let's do this," I said, dropping my head.

The walk to the quiet darkened room was agonizing. I hurt so deeply, and the heaviness surrounding me made me feel that I couldn't lift each foot to take another step. We sat and faced the parents. I apologized for the misguided information I'd given earlier. The looks of appeasement they previously wore, quickly began retreating. I went on to explain that we now had a definitive diagnosis due to the CAT scan results.This time it was horribly saddening to watch the last look of hope disappear from their faces. I elucidated the tumor, and the prognosis. Their expressions and then their cries will haunt me forever. It was unbearable--my hurt being magnified a thousand fold. I looked away. I wanted to hide, and never come out.

We stayed a few moments then turned their care over to a case manager. I left the room crestfallen.

To this day I don't know the end result of the story. I can only assume the precious little girl died shortly thereafter. And now it's the 20 year anniversary of this event. It seemed to burst into my mind as a reminder of what can happen in my profession.

At least I can say that my faith in The Lord Jesus Christ brings me peace. For I know that all the wrongs of this life, through him can be made right. This family can be a forever family. These parents can raise their little girl in the hereafter, and enjoy all the thrills and blessings of raising her. The accompanying picture brings such relief and joy to my heart for I know our Savior held this little girl snuggly in his arms as she passed through the veil.

Our Heavenly Father's promised blessings unto those that come unto him will far surpass all expectation. Thank goodness, I can only exclaim, for my foundation in my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

There will come a day when I get to see the wondrous blessings of our Lord to these people. I look forward to that time for I know the ache in my heart will be replaced with gratitude and joy. And as for now, as I get ready for another shift in the ER. I can always hope for a NEVER BETTER day.