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Annie was hooked to a telemetry unit, which implied that we nurses were to respond and treat any cardiac events. If Annie had previously indicated that she did not want to be resuscitated, she would not have been on a monitor.
Her condition was unstable, cycling between even and quiet for a few minutes to a struggle the next. She was alone in her room; Kerry had not visited that day, and could not be reached.
The Respiratory Care therapist felt oxygen under pressure would help, so we put a tight-sealed facemask around her face to provide constant oxygen and airflow pressure.
This extra oxygen let Annie open her eyes and give us a look that asked, “Why are you doing this to me?” However, the oxygen therapy, combined with some morphine, calmed Annie. I left her and tended to my other patients.
While I was gone, Annie removed the uncomfortable facemask.
The therapist decided to remedy this by using an ancient ventilator and installing an oral tracheal tube. Annie’s eyes showed her fear and terror while mine showed fear and anger. I felt that this was all so wrong.
Compassion
Near midnight, I called Annie’s specialist, who was celebrating his wedding anniversary at the area’s best restaurant. When I said “It is Annie,” he said he would be there in 30 minutes, and didn’t say another word. He left his wife to settle the bill and figure out a way home.
Kerry came by the hospital to visit, and stayed with Annie; she spoke and Annie talked back with her eyes. The room was filling.
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