My hands trembled as I ended the call. Someone I didn’t know had died. But what gave me palpitation was hearing of the pain his wife endured while her husband was hospitalized.
She couldn’t be with him.
She had no access to his doctor or nurse.
She had no way of knowing his condition.
She didn’t know if he was critical or stable.
She didn’t know where to turn.
Then she remembered that she had a friend who was a doctor, who I will call Dr. Amira. She called her, sobbing and barely coherent.
“My husband was having difficulty breathing . . . I called the ambulance . . . they took him to the hospital but didn’t let me go with him . . . I don’t know where they took him . . . . ”
Dr. Amira is also my friend. She called me yesterday and told me what had happened.
After speaking to the patient’s wife, Amira took a chance and called the patient on his cell phone. He answered.
“I am scared,” he said. “The ambulance brought me to the hospital, but I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Which hospital?” she asked.
He told her. It was the hospital Amira works at. She knows the medical staff there.
“When the doctor comes in to see you, call me and tell him to get on the phone with me. Tell him who I am.”
The doctor came, the patient called Amira, the doctor spoke to her.
“His x-ray doesn’t look good. We are putting him on a ventilator.”
Amira called the wife. Bad news: He is critical. Bad news: No visitors allowed.
“So tell me,” I asked Amira. “What about consent, advance directives, healthcare proxy? Wouldn’t the team have to consult the family about decision-making?”
Apparently, caregivers are overwhelmed and have taken on the burden of making decisions on their own. And visitors are out of the question. Fortunately, in this case, Amira knew a doctor on the Pulmonary service, and weighed-in on her to make an exception and allow the wife to visit her husband. The wife had to be outfitted into PPE (gown, shoes, mask, cap) and brought in for a few minutes. The next the wife heard was when was given the news that he had passed away. They kept the body in the morgue for three days to reduce the risk of transmission, and when they released the body, no funeral home would accept it. They were not equipped to handle coronavirus cases. Friends of the family scrambled, and eventually found an out-of-town funeral home that agreed to take the body. There will be a burial, with no one there to comfort his wife and children.
This is what I dread the most, next to the fear of losing a loved one. Whenever I have thought of death in my family, I picture myself in the room with my loved one, holding their hand. Never, ever, had I imagined that families could be separated in those final hours and days. Never had I thought of a near and dear one dying alone. How can anyone endure the separation? And how can life go on in the months and years that will follow, knowing that you never said goodbye, you never held their hand, they never heard your voice, never felt your touch. May God give them the families the patience to endure their suffering. I appreciate now, what a blessing it is to be able to comfort a loved one, when they are most in need.
P.S. Today, New York City issued an order that one visitor (under age 70) will be allowed for patients in imminent end-of-life situations.
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