Read Online Miracles in the ER by Robert D. Lesslie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Robert D. Lesslie
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there and all. I wonder if he’s thought about that.”
“Got ’em right here.” Amy held up a sheaf of papers. “He filled these out a couple of months ago and gave us a copy. Keep ’em here with his chart all the time.”
She put the forms back with the rest of his record.
“Well, that’s good.” Jay sighed and picked up the chart for his next patient in the ENT room. “Let’s see what we’ve got back there.”
He disappeared down the hallway, and Rebecca stepped out of room 5 and walked over beside me.
“Dr. Lesslie, I’m going out to the waiting room to make some phone calls. Dad would like to speak to you, if you have a moment.”
“Sure, I’ll do that right now.”
She didn’t move, just kept looking at me with reddened eyes. Her mouth opened, but there was only a quiet sigh. She turned and walked out through triage.
“John, your daughter said you wanted to see me.” I pulled the curtain closed and stepped over to his stretcher. He held out his hand—cool, damp, his handshake weak. Just that small amount of effort seemed to tire him.
“Thanks, Dr. Lesslie.” His words were mumbled, whispered, and I leaned closer.
“I want to talk with you about my living will, in case… when something happens. I’m worried about my wife and my children. You know what they’ve had to go through, with all the treatments and everything.”
He paused and took some deep breaths. Worried about his wife and children. I marveled at the strength of this man. He was dying, yet he was more concerned about his family than himself.
“I’m ready,” he continued. “And I’d like nothing better than to take my last breath at home, in my bed, with my family around me. But I’m not sure…when the time does come…if they’ll be able to…” His words drifted away. His eyes never left mine and for a moment we were both silent.
“John, I understand. And if your wife needs to have you brought here, that will be fine. We’ll take care of you. And we’ll take care of her.”
Tears welled in his eyes, his voice just barely a whisper. “Thanks, Doctor. I just worry that Ellen…”
“It’s okay, John. When the time comes, it will be okay.”
Two weeks passed, and the time came. Ellen Richmond called 9-1-1 when John’s breathing became labored and he started weaving in and out of consciousness. Lori Davidson directed the paramedics to the cardiac room, then walked over beside me.
“Denton Roberts said there’s a bunch of people out in the waiting room, and they all want to come back. I’m sure it’s his family.”
I glanced over at the cardiac door and then at Lori.
“His wife handed me his advanced directives—no code—just supportive measures.” She paused and shook her head. “I can’t believe he can live more than an hour or so.”
Lori had spent a lot of years in the ER with a lot of sick and dying patients. She knew what she was talking about.
“Sure. Let them come back.”
She nodded and walked out to the waiting room.
“This is what we need on the man over in 1.” I slid the chart across the counter to Amy. “See if you can get the X-ray done first.”
The door of cardiac opened behind me and I turned to see Lori stepping into the hallway. She left the door cracked, looked over at me, and nodded. I had asked her to let me know when she had Mr. Richmond settled and as comfortable as we could make him.
She walked behind the nurses’ station and slumped into a chair beside Amy.
The door creaked faintly as I pulled it closed behind me and stepped into the room. No one looked up.
They were all there. Ellen stood at the head of the stretcher, one hand on John’s chest. Around the bed were his children—Matthew, Rebecca, and another son, Luke. With them were their spouses, and they all held hands.
If anyone was sobbing, I didn’t hear it. Their heads were bowed, and the only sound in the room was the quiet, irregular breathing of John Richmond.
It was his son Matthew who
“Got ’em right here.” Amy held up a sheaf of papers. “He filled these out a couple of months ago and gave us a copy. Keep ’em here with his chart all the time.”
She put the forms back with the rest of his record.
“Well, that’s good.” Jay sighed and picked up the chart for his next patient in the ENT room. “Let’s see what we’ve got back there.”
He disappeared down the hallway, and Rebecca stepped out of room 5 and walked over beside me.
“Dr. Lesslie, I’m going out to the waiting room to make some phone calls. Dad would like to speak to you, if you have a moment.”
“Sure, I’ll do that right now.”
She didn’t move, just kept looking at me with reddened eyes. Her mouth opened, but there was only a quiet sigh. She turned and walked out through triage.
“John, your daughter said you wanted to see me.” I pulled the curtain closed and stepped over to his stretcher. He held out his hand—cool, damp, his handshake weak. Just that small amount of effort seemed to tire him.
“Thanks, Dr. Lesslie.” His words were mumbled, whispered, and I leaned closer.
“I want to talk with you about my living will, in case… when something happens. I’m worried about my wife and my children. You know what they’ve had to go through, with all the treatments and everything.”
He paused and took some deep breaths. Worried about his wife and children. I marveled at the strength of this man. He was dying, yet he was more concerned about his family than himself.
“I’m ready,” he continued. “And I’d like nothing better than to take my last breath at home, in my bed, with my family around me. But I’m not sure…when the time does come…if they’ll be able to…” His words drifted away. His eyes never left mine and for a moment we were both silent.
“John, I understand. And if your wife needs to have you brought here, that will be fine. We’ll take care of you. And we’ll take care of her.”
Tears welled in his eyes, his voice just barely a whisper. “Thanks, Doctor. I just worry that Ellen…”
“It’s okay, John. When the time comes, it will be okay.”
Two weeks passed, and the time came. Ellen Richmond called 9-1-1 when John’s breathing became labored and he started weaving in and out of consciousness. Lori Davidson directed the paramedics to the cardiac room, then walked over beside me.
“Denton Roberts said there’s a bunch of people out in the waiting room, and they all want to come back. I’m sure it’s his family.”
I glanced over at the cardiac door and then at Lori.
“His wife handed me his advanced directives—no code—just supportive measures.” She paused and shook her head. “I can’t believe he can live more than an hour or so.”
Lori had spent a lot of years in the ER with a lot of sick and dying patients. She knew what she was talking about.
“Sure. Let them come back.”
She nodded and walked out to the waiting room.
“This is what we need on the man over in 1.” I slid the chart across the counter to Amy. “See if you can get the X-ray done first.”
The door of cardiac opened behind me and I turned to see Lori stepping into the hallway. She left the door cracked, looked over at me, and nodded. I had asked her to let me know when she had Mr. Richmond settled and as comfortable as we could make him.
She walked behind the nurses’ station and slumped into a chair beside Amy.
The door creaked faintly as I pulled it closed behind me and stepped into the room. No one looked up.
They were all there. Ellen stood at the head of the stretcher, one hand on John’s chest. Around the bed were his children—Matthew, Rebecca, and another son, Luke. With them were their spouses, and they all held hands.
If anyone was sobbing, I didn’t hear it. Their heads were bowed, and the only sound in the room was the quiet, irregular breathing of John Richmond.
It was his son Matthew who
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