Our patient, “Jennifer”, was transferred to St. Francis Medical Center that day after suddenly becoming unconscious hours after running a marathon. Her loving husband, mother, father, and mother-in-law accompanied her. Her two young children were in the waiting room, not old enough to understand what was wrong. Her diagnosis was a massive stroke to her brainstem.
By the time she arrived, she was non-responsive on a mechanical ventilator and there was little that could be done in terms of immediate treatment. As a medical team, we decided the best thing we could do was to wait and see, day by day, how she would recover. We also set out to understand why such a debilitating injury could happen to a seemingly young, healthy individual who had no previous medical history. As it turned out, Jennifer had the misfortune of having a serious genetic clotting disorder that did not show itself until that one fateful day.
As the days went by, it became increasingly clear that Jennifer’s odds of meaningful recovery were getting slim. She displayed some primitive reflexes, but continued not to be able to breath on her own. It was time to have a more frank talk with the family about Jennifer’s situation.
Dr. S was the leader of the care team, and led the family meetings that ensued. She displayed poise and confidence, empathy and concern like she had so many other times. However, there was something about this particular situation that seemed to be affecting Dr. S more than in the past. It wasn’t until my last day on the neurology service when I learned why.
In a discussion at the bedside with Jennifer’s mother, Dr. S and I answered more questions while we were examining our patient. It was during this conversation that Dr. S started to break from her usual stoic, doctoring persona, and began to discuss with the family how this case had affected her personally. She let them know that Jennifer and her were the exact same age, and that their kids were the same ages as well. Even small details from Jennifer’s life had reminded Dr. S of her own. That was why it was even more difficult for her to say that to the family that their loved will likely never recover. Her encounter with Jennifer seemed to bring the idea of her own life’s fragility into remarkable clarity. It was then that Jennifer’s mother broke down into tears and Dr. S followed suit. Not a word was said for a period of time, and the visit with Jennifer ended with Dr. S getting a hug from Jennifer’s parent as if it were her own mother. It was a moment of pure empathy. It meant more to the family then I could possibly put into words.
I still wonder if before that day Dr. S ever thought about how her family would deal with things if she were to one day unexpectedly go into a coma. Even if she had, I wonder if it could have captured the true gravity of the situation. Hearing our patient’s story would be difficult for anyone, but it is probably even harder when that story hits so close to home. I think this is what makes Dr. S’s actions even more impressive, and why she is a wonderful testament to compassionate, humanistic care in Peoria.
Brian Andonian
UICOMP Class of 2014
