Life, Death, Madness - Page 5


"He's gone. I'm sorry," she says. Her voice is neutral, factual. Everyone gasps. Keisha collapses to the floor, while Rhonda clings to her on the way down. Fred is bent over, his shoulders heaving. "Not my boy!" Claudia howls, her voice hoarse with rage and pain. "Oh, mighty Lord, no!"

Keisha's mouth is agape. "He's gone? No, you didn't say that!" she pleads. "I'm carrying his baby!"

In the coming year, I'll get to know this face, the stunned human face in acute grief, eyes searching for solace, pleading for a second chance. In this moment of catastrophic knowledge, time seems to stand still. The hospital continues its madly swirling pace: tech staff roll equipment by, phones ring, visitors stroll past. But for us in this room, time has stopped.

After a few minutes, the physicians exit. I want to leave with them. I feel a hot, prickly anxiety. Now it's just me. What can I, or anyone, say when faced with people who've lost all hope?

I remind myself that this family doesn't need any words from me, at least not right now. I breathe deeply and sit quietly with Cyrus's family as they cry, shake, and try once again to seek refuge in disbelief. "This isn't happening! He was doin' so good!" I stay with my breath, listening, meeting their eyes. Finally, Keisha looks up at me. "Now what do we do?"

But my pager is vibrating. The ED needs me to help place a psychiatry patient. Quickly, I gauge how much more time I can spend here without letting the psychiatry patient wait too long. I ask what might be of help right now. A clergyperson? Glasses of water? A phone? "I'll bring you to Cyrus soon," I tell them. "I'll help you through this in the coming hours." Then I excuse myself, promising to return quickly. It's nearly 4 a.m. I walk down the hall to meet my next patient.

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