Reaching out

I had only just started working in the operating theatres of a major city hospital, so I was still in the "green" mode as to how to do things and where to find everything. I was working a late shift on a Sunday evening when we had a patient come back to theatre from one of the day lists. He had had a couple of heart bypass grafts done earlier that day which were leaking and needed to be re-sutured. Unfortunately, once the gentleman was opened up again in theatre, it was found that he had had a massive bleed and could not be repaired. Consequently he died on the operating table about 10.30pm.

Being my first "coroners case" I requested to stay and see it through, to see what was needed to be done, who to call, the paperwork and so on. Once the preliminaries were dealt with I was asked to check a few things in the operating theatre. The coroner's representative had not yet viewed the case so the gentleman was still lying on the table, a sheet over his body to indicate no signs of life.

By now, it was late at night, and we did not have any other cases in progress in the adjoining theatre suite, and the main lights had been turned off. The only light in the room was that of the scrub area (where the doctors and nurses wash their hands before a case). It was unusually quiet, with only the hum of the hospitals air-conditioning in the background. As I checked the area around the table where our expired gentleman lay, I noticed that one of the suction bottles under the table was near full and had yet to be recorded in the case notes. I bent down to move it away from under the table. As I did, I suddenly felt the weight of something on my back. I froze, wondering what or who was in the room with me. As I slowly moved away from the table, still crouched down I could feel this weight moving with me. Startled, I swung round to see the patient's arm sliding off the small of my back. I flew out of that theatre room as quickly as my little legs would carry me, calling out "he is alive, still alive" as I ran down the corridor. I can still feel the weight of that arm on my back to this day. After creating a commotion, waking half the hospital, and working myself up into a state I was assisted by the theatre charge nurse to show her what the problem was. I gulped as we came to the solid theatre operating door. There was a small oblong glass window in the middle upper third of the door that just begged any passer by to look in. Not me... I knew what was in there. I had already conjured up visions of this person sitting on the edge of the operating table, intravenous lines and monitor wiring tangled around his body, alive and kicking. After all, he touched me on the back to tell me this, didn't he?

As we opened the door, my superior said "Trust me Berni, there is nothing in here for you to worry about". Ok for her to say that, she didn’t have an arm reaching out, holding you down, wanting you to know he was there. As we entered, the main lights turned on flooded the area and lit up the operating room. There in the middle of the room lay the deceased, his right arm by his side. Not a breath, not a single movement came from him. I stood and stared, heart beat racing, knowing she was right. He wasn’t alive. The charge nurse explained what probably had happened, that his arm had slid away from the side support, which was why it had fallen across my back. I now felt embarrassed at my naivety.

On reflection, maybe I was really hoping that he would still be alive, reacting as I did through helplessness of not really being able to do any more than what had already been done.

Sometimes we are faced with confronting situations where fear can take over our rational thought processes. Facing difficult situations and trusting the guidance of others will enable you to learn skills to cope with these challenging circumstances.