Once upon a time there was a girl who really loved books and sewing poster

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Eventually, he gave up. It was just him and me and his intubated roommate in the next bed. Once upon a time there was a girl who really loved books and sewing poster. The wooden door to the room is shut, containing infection and cutting us off from the rest of the world. I called the doctor to come and mark the time of death. I wished so much that I could let his family know that while they might not have been with him, I was.

Once upon a time there was a girl who really loved books and sewing poster

Once upon a time there was a girl who really loved books and sewing poster - A2
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poster – A3
Once upon a time there was a girl who really loved books and sewing poster - A4
poster – A4

I shut the pumps down (so horribly many of them), disconnected the vent, took him off the monitor. We didn’t extubate him, too much of a risk to staff. Respiratory took the vent as soon as I called. It’s just a portable one, but it’s life to someone downstairs. Once upon a time there was a girl who really loved books and sewing poster. The CNA helped me to wash him and place him in a body bag, a luxury afforded only to those who make it out of the ER. Down there the bodies pile up on stretchers, alone, while the patients on vents wait for the golden spot my gentleman just vacated. We’ll talk about the ER another time. My patient was obviously healthy in his life. I look at his picture in his chart, the kind they take from a camera over a computer when you aren’t really prepared. A head shot, slightly awkward. I see someone’s Grandpa, someone’s Dad, someones Husband. They aren’t here with him. My heart breaks for them.

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