Not Your Typical Friday Night Shift

I must apologise for not writing very much recently, I have gone and bought myself an electric piano and I have got back into writing music again.

I quite like working on the A&E ward at times, it can be a nice break from the madhouse that is Majors on a Friday night. Having said that, a lot of the psych review patients are sent there, and they do kick off, but no-one did on this night and I think we were all grateful that it was quiet for our other patients.

Elaine had been brought into resus in respiratory arrest during the day shift. A CT showed a very large subarachnoid haemorrhage. She was alive and breathing again, but unresponsive. There was nothing that could reverse the damage that the bleed had already done, and she would die soon. Elaine was sent to the A&E ward with her husband where she could pass away in peace. I turned up on the A&E ward at 9pm and met Elaine with her husband, who I‘ll call John. The bay was blocked off so no-one else could go in, they had their own place on our ward to be alone. Her breathing was very rapid and she looked purple. John was sat beside her and he smiled at me as soon as I walked in. Elaine’s son was in Spain and was desperately trying to catch an early flight back here to say goodbye to his mum. Me and Julie, a staff nurse that I was working with that night, went in to make sure she was clean, as you would with any patient. We all talked and laughed, me, Julie and John, doing those little things we all do to separate ourselves from a devastating reality. I went back to check on them during the night, and at 2am John was still awake. We offered him the bed next to Elaine, to which he declined. He said it was on the wrong side, he always slept on the right. So me and Julie moved the beds around, we pushed Elaine on the bed and the empty one round so it was now on the right side, then pushed the beds together. ‘There you go John, you can sleep next to her now’ He smiled and replied ‘I don’t think she’ll be bothered about that after 50 years’. He layed down next to her, and held her hand through the bed sheet.

We didn’t hear anything from them until close to our shift finishing. We kept poking our head around the corner to see if John wanted anything to drink and he was very thankful for the odd cups of coffee. I don’t think he actually slept all night. I was due to finish my shift at 8am, so at 7am I couldn’t have been more ready for bed, when someone pressed their call bell. I looked and found that it was coming from bay 5 - Elaine’s bay. I walked towards it when I heard John cry 'Nurse'. I walked over to Elaine, her colour had changed from a purpley red to very pale. She had stopped breathing and I couldn’t find a pulse. I looked at John, he had tears running down his face. He’d been smiling all night. ‘I think she’s gone’. He sat down next to Elaine and held her hand so tightly, it was the closest he’d been to her all night. We left John to have some time alone with his wife.

John knew what had happened, but when he called ‘Nurse’ there was a quiet desperation in his voice. It was in instinctive cry for help, it was as if he was asking us to do something.

I am ok with death. It is a common occurrence in A&E, (in fact I find it one of the easier tasks, the dead ones don’t argue). The thing is, you don’t usually have any time to get to know the patient or their relatives, they are brought in already dead, if not soon to be dead. In most cases, a quick little sarcastic joke and you’re well clear of any involvement or sadness that surrounds the death. This time was very different. I had spent all night with Elaine and John, and anyone could see how much he loved her. He was a lovely person, and reminded me of my own Grandad. We had talked and laughed, and I felt that I’d gotten to know him just a little bit. It became impossible for me to separate myself. When I was due to finish my shift, I went to say goodbye to John. I just quickly popped my head around the curtain and said, ‘Hello, I’m sorry to disturb you, I just wanted to say bye now that I’m finishing, take care’. He thanked me for everything and told me to take care as well. It took every bit of strength I had not to cry. This wasn’t helped by the fact that I was on my fifth consecutive night shift, but the truth is I am hopelessly soppy at heart. I held back the tears and stood next to my colleagues while we waited for the drugs to be checked so that we could go home. All the while I was thinking ‘God I hope no-one asks how I am’. I made a quick exit once the final drug checks were done and I cried all the way home. Her son never did make it back in time to say goodbye.