Night at the Hospital

Night at the Hospital

“I’m sorry,” as I touched the head of my patient.

I sat on the bench outside ‌the operating room, thinking about how I was going to talk to the family of the man who had just died on my operating table. I tried my hardest to save him, but the injuries that he sustained were life-threatening, and I couldn’t do it. I had to think about what I was going to say to that man’s family, but the words just didn’t sound right. How many times can I say, I’m sorry for your loss, or I tried everything I could to save them, without feeling like a broken record?

I stood up, about to walk into the waiting area where the family was sitting there waiting for me to tell them I tried my hardest to save their loved one, but the injuries were life-threatening. I walked through the door, pulled off my scrub cap, and held it to my chest. I looked at the widow, and she already knew what I was about to say to her. She screamed, “NO!”

She fell to the ground and cried her eyes out. Her children lifted her off the ground and sat on the couch. I walked towards the operating room to clean myself up and get ready for the rest of my rounds. Her daughter grabbed my shoulder and asked, “Doctor, did you try everything to save my father?”

I touched her hand and repeated the same words I had repeated a hundred times before. “Yes miss. There was nothing I could do. The injuries from the accident were just too severe, and we couldn’t stop the bleeding.”

“What happened to the other driver? Who did this to my father? Where is he? I need to see him,” the daughter said in anger. I just stared at her and walked back into the operating room.

The daughter screamed from the waiting room, but I just continued to walk away from her. I felt there was nothing I could do or say to comfort her. I walked into the locker room and changed into my spare scrubs. I sat on the bench once again and pulled a picture of my husband and son out of my locker and stared at it. I held it close to me when a nurse walked into the locker room. “Doctor Monroe, we need you in the emergency room.”

I put the picture back into my locker and slammed it shut. I walked into the emergency room and saw an ambulance rushing in with a child on a stretcher. I ran over and asked what had happened. The mother held her hands to her eyes and said, “He just stopped breathing. I think he might have swallowed something.”

“What did he swallow?” I asked, staring into the mother’s eyes.

“I think a Lego,” she whispered, hoping I wouldn’t hear her.

I rushed with the boy into the operating room. I started to do the Heimlich maneuver and watched the boy spit up a Lego. I cleared his airway and started CPR. The boy took a deep breath ‌and cried. He looked around and saw everyone staring at him. He asked if he was in trouble, and when I told him no, he smiled at me, and we kept him overnight to make sure that he was alright before sending him home with his mother.

I walked out of the room. I glanced around the hallway to see if anyone was there, but the hallway was empty. I thought this would be a good time to sneak away to the breakroom for a snack. I looked at the clock. The time was midnight, and I had eaten nothing for hours. I grabbed a snack and kicked back to check my phone. No one had called me or texted since this afternoon when I left for work, when my mother called me to check on me. I pulled up the video game that I had put on my phone to keep my mind occupied when I wasn’t saving lives.

A couple of minutes after defeating the bad guys in my video game, I heard someone screaming from ‌outside‌ the breakroom. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. I stuck my head out and realized it was the daughter of the man who died on my operating table a couple of hours ago. She was screaming at me because she felt I didn’t try hard enough to save her father. I walked out of the break room with my hands in the air.

“You didn’t even try to save my father!” The daughter screamed, waving a gun in the air.

I walked closer to her, still with my hands in the air. “I couldn’t save him when he came into my operating room. His insides were falling out of his body. His pulse was weak. I put pressure on his wounds, but the blood just kept pouring out of his body. There was nothing I could do to save him. I’m sorry,” I said, trying to calm the woman down.

“You’re sorry! Have you ever lost someone you love? I didn’t even get to say goodbye. You didn’t allow me to say goodbye. He was my father.” The woman said as she pointed the gun at me.

“I lost my husband and son. They died when someone broke into our house and killed them when they were watching TV.” I said as I put my hands to my sides.

“What? You lost your son?” the woman asked, lowering the gun.

“I was at work when their bodies came into the ER and I tried to save my son but it was too late. He was gone and my husband died at the scene. I almost quit practicing medicine, but I could hear my husband’s voice telling me not to give up. He would always tell me if I quit then people who need me will die.” I said, explaining my life to her.

“But my father?” the woman asked.

“If I continued to work on your father even though he was already gone, then I would have missed the opportunity to save a little boy’s life. Things happen for a reason.” I said to calm the woman down.

The woman dropped the gun on the ground, and security grabbed her to arrest her. I told them she was just a distraught woman who had just lost her father. I told them she just wanted some answers. Security let the woman go, and she hugged me. “I’m glad you saved that little boy. My father lived a long life. I’m sorry.”