chapter 14: part 8

continued from chapter 14: part 7

The next morning I stopped a nurse in the hall.

"Please tell the doctor that Hal does not want to be resuscitated. He made the decision last night. But, please also tell the doctors that he intends to keep fighting and they must not talk to him as though there's no hope."

That simple message snowballed into an enormous misunderstanding that didn't get sorted out until it was almost too late. The doctors took this message as a signal that all treatment and tests should be continued, although they understood the "do not resuscitate" message.

The next day, Friday morning I arrived when a couple of nurses were making up the bed and Hal was down in ex-ray having his lungs ex-rayed.

"They're doing what?"

No, they didn't know why the doctor had ordered this but they were friendly and chatty and I blurted,

"Do you think he knows he's dying?"

Then I burst into tears. For a woman who prided herself in being self- contained I was definitely coming unglued. They put their arms around me and the consensus was he did know but would not say so.

We were interrupted by the arrival of a worried porter who was returning Hal to the room. Hal was in obvious respiratory distress and he was hurriedly placed on the bed and propped into a sitting position. His lungs expanded but wouldn't close and he was croaking for air. The nurses calmly worked with him and one put in a call for a doctor.

The resident who took the call first rushed down to ex-ray to take a quick look at the plates. He dashed into the room and by that time Hal was beginning to take in some air. The doctor listened to his chest and motioned me out of the room. He sounded distressed.

"This is very bad. The ex-rays show his lungs are riddled. This must have happened in the last couple of weeks."

"Put him under," I implored.

He misunderstood thinking I meant I wanted him to end Hal’s life.
“I can’t do that- they’d pull my license in a minute.”

"No, I want him to be sedated," I explained. "Is there fluid in his lungs?"

"I don't think so but I'll give him something in case there is."

He injected something for that and gave him more morphine and Hal settled into a fitful breathing pattern, exhausted.

I stood by the bed, holding his hand, staying out of everyone's way and quietly sobbing. Hal opened his eyes and gasped,

"Don't cry, dear; I'm going to make it."

I truly think he believed that.

continued in chapter 14: part 9