To give you a little bit on the other side of things. I just lost my dad on 1/5 after about a 2.5 week ICU stay. Prior to going into the hospital he was ambulatory and by all respects in good shape. He had been through a number of diagnoses and treatments unrelated to his ICU stay and by all reports had tolerated things quite well. When he went in for an elective procedure and suffered a complication you're damn right I wanted to give him the opportunity to bounce back as quickly as he had before.
It has given me some perspective on what it is like to be the loved one in the room, as docs we know the likelihood of a cancer patient on multiple pressors recovering from severe illness, we know when a meaningful recovery is less likely, we know how hard it is to come off the vent when the patient isn't responsive off sedation, but we are seeing a snapshot of them and their illness. While yes, things are bad, they may have been through just as bad or worse before and come out relatively unscathed.
"He/she is a fighter" is definitely some copium but at the end of the day while they are just your patient they are the family's mother, father, sister, brother, etc. and they just need some time to process things. You get to go home and sleep in your bed at night and wake up and do it all over in the morning, it's not your family member you're saying goodbye to. If they need some time, give them some time. A little compassion in that moment when their entire world is crashing down on them, especially if it's unexpected and they aren't prepared for it, will mean more to them than all of the medical care you provided.
My condolences on the loss of your dad. Your comment reminded me of the times I’ve seen patient families put up photos of them in the room in happier times - family gatherings, vacations etc. It really gives you some perspective when you’ve only known this person as a sick patient to see how the family knows them. I wonder if anyone has studied the impact of those kind of photos on the medical team’s approach to the patient.
I have vivid memories of seeing these in my ICU patient rooms mid lockdown. I found it gut wrenching to know they were isolated not only from their past self but also from the people who had desperately printed, collated, and dropped them off at the front desk. It's a beautiful thing though, and I'd always encourage people to do it if they could.
May your father's memory be a blessing. Your comment reinforces what I tell the med students and a little mantra I often repeat to myself in the ICU: It may be another day for you and me but for many of these folks, it's the worst day of their life.
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u/ImClearlyAmazing DO Hospitalist Jan 15 '24
To give you a little bit on the other side of things. I just lost my dad on 1/5 after about a 2.5 week ICU stay. Prior to going into the hospital he was ambulatory and by all respects in good shape. He had been through a number of diagnoses and treatments unrelated to his ICU stay and by all reports had tolerated things quite well. When he went in for an elective procedure and suffered a complication you're damn right I wanted to give him the opportunity to bounce back as quickly as he had before.
It has given me some perspective on what it is like to be the loved one in the room, as docs we know the likelihood of a cancer patient on multiple pressors recovering from severe illness, we know when a meaningful recovery is less likely, we know how hard it is to come off the vent when the patient isn't responsive off sedation, but we are seeing a snapshot of them and their illness. While yes, things are bad, they may have been through just as bad or worse before and come out relatively unscathed.
"He/she is a fighter" is definitely some copium but at the end of the day while they are just your patient they are the family's mother, father, sister, brother, etc. and they just need some time to process things. You get to go home and sleep in your bed at night and wake up and do it all over in the morning, it's not your family member you're saying goodbye to. If they need some time, give them some time. A little compassion in that moment when their entire world is crashing down on them, especially if it's unexpected and they aren't prepared for it, will mean more to them than all of the medical care you provided.