“It- it’s Sammy. He was just rushed into the ER. He had a seizure. I’m on my way to the hospital, too. See you there.” She hangs up before I can ask any questions.
The hospital is fast paced when I arrive. The ER is controlled chaos. ER doctors and nurses are cut from a different cloth. These are the type ofmedical providers that I liken to adrenaline junkies. They focus on multiple patients at once, make critical decisions, and have to have impressive bedside manners. I don’t have the mental agility for emergency medicine. I considered surgery. I have good hands, I’m systematic, and great at focusing on one patient at a time. However, once I declared pediatrics as my specialty, I couldn’t bear the idea of cutting open children. I know it’s part of saving their lives, but I don’t want to look at my patients as skin and organs. I don’t want their family members to see me as the doctor who is dissecting and prodding around in their child’s body.
Patient care is what I want to do. And I’m hating myself for not being able to detach from my work. I hate that I chose a career path that forces me to empathize with my patients and their families. I hate that I’m not enough to save someone…again.
“He can wake up, right?” Wendy sobs as she holds Sammy’s small, limp hand. “People wake up from comas all the time. Miracles happen.” She’s begging for me or Dr. Nash to tell her what she wants to hear.
“Wendy…” Dr. Nash begins.
“Don’t!” Wendy shrieks. “Don’t tell me you’re giving up on Sammy! You both have said from the beginning that he’s a fighter. He’sstrong!”
I clear my throat to speak. “Wendy, even if we could find a donor heart for Sammy. At this point, his body is too weak. He wouldn’t survive the surgery. The machines are helping him breathe right now.” I force myself to swallow and choke back the pain in my voice. That doesn’t stop my eyes from showing the agony I’m feeling on the inside for this woman, for her beautiful son, who didn’t deserve the hand he was dealt.
Focus on the facts. I remind myself. Staying objective is a way to stay composed in these types of situations. I can feel Dr. Nash staying quiet, telling me to take the lead on this discussion. To show my ability to handle these situations.
“Please, Jon. Don’t say it…” Wendy is milliseconds away from crumbling. My next words are going to be the final swing of the axe that brings her down, that shatters the world she believes in, that changes her forever.
It’s the right thing to do, Jon. My mother’s words echo in the back of my mind, and I taste bile from the memory of her voice. Her words that turned me into a passive observer. I may not have been able to do anything to change the outcome of what happened back then, but I promised I wouldn’t sit and watch another innocent child die.
I take a breath and reach for Wendy’s hands. She clutches my wrists, her own hands trembling and clammy. “Please…” she repeats. Her blue eyes, that are just like Sammy’s look into mine for answers, for solutions.
“Medically, there isn’t more that we can do?—”
“No!” Wendy cuts me off and tries to rip her hands from my hold.
“But!” I interrupt. She pauses and waits, holding her breath. I feel Dr. Nash behind me, leaning closer and possibly giving me a look that says,what are you about to do, Jon?“But, he’s not alone right now, Wendy. He has you. He has me. He has Dr. Nash. You can keep fighting for him. Keeplivingfor him.”
“You won’t leave him?” she asks, waiting for a promise.
“I’m never leaving him, Wendy.” I take a seat next to Sammy and hold his small hand.
Wendy moves to the other side of the bed, lays beside her little boy, careful not to pull any of the tubes or breathing apparatus out, and holds him, stroking her hand through his blonde hair.
“He’s so beautiful,” she cries against the side of his face.
“He is,” I agree. Looking at Sammy in the hospital bed, he’s not much smaller than Jacob was.
“You won’t forget him? I know that’s asking a lot…”
“I could never forget him, Wendy.”
She nods.
The three of us sit with Sammy until the sun comes up. None of us sleep. We sit in a shared, morose quiet. Only the beeping of his respirator and heart monitor denote that time is still moving.
We sit with Wendy when she signs the paperwork allowing Sammy to be taken off the life support machines. We hold her as she holds Sammy as his last breath leaves his body.
I place my hand over his small chest, knowing I won’t feel his tiny heart beating anymore.
“You fought hard, Champ.”
I skulk around the hospital in a weird daze. Wendy had arrangements to make and she wanted space. Dr. Nash waited another hour before reminding me that we have other patients. She’s not trying to be cold; I know she cared about Sammy. She doesn’t want me to wallow. And she’s right. We have otherlivingpatients. We can’t deprive them of care because we just lost Sammy.
I compartmentalize the best that I can. This is one of the parts I hate about this job. It’s never over. Maybe other doctors are better at separating themselves from their patients, but I carry all of mine with me. Sammy…Sammy is already weighing more heavily. I meant what I promised to Wendy.I’ll never forget him.
I get to my office and collapse on the couch.
“I heard about your patient. I’m sorry,” Lance says from his desk. He removes his glasses and dusts them off with a cleaning cloth. “How’s his mom doing?”
