The shell
Today I was in the emergency department and the Director came up to me.
[Director]: Have you ever seen a cardiac arrest code?
Me: No
[Director]: You should take a look in room 18. Its full of people. Its an interesting phenomenon from a resource allocation perspective.
He was refering to our discussions about my interest in understanding how resources flow in the ED (both human and equipment resources).
Me: Ok. Thanks.
I went and stood outside room 18. I couldn't see much of what was going on inside because there were about 15 nurses, EDTs, paramedics, residents, attendings, and other staff in there. A couple them were working on the patient, including the doctor frantically applying chest compressions. The rest were watching.
The patient was an obese man, lying naked and uncovered on the bed, his feet towards the entrace to the room. I couldn't see his face. His whole body was shaking from the doctors compressing his chest. As I stood watching in the hallway, the admissions staff chatted about how it was a futile effort; they might as well declare him dead. At that moment it struck me how little dignity there is in such a death. The man was lying naked on a cold, bare hospital bed with 20 people surrounding him. People who had never met him in his life. People refering to him as 'patient in room 18' or 'the cardiac arrest' or simply '18'. His body was an empty shell. No name, no identity, no emotions, no soul. Paramedics who came out of the room told us that the man was long dead but they were letting the chest compressions go on so that the residents could get some practice. The shell was being used for practical purposes.
What a terrible way to die.
[Director]: Have you ever seen a cardiac arrest code?
Me: No
[Director]: You should take a look in room 18. Its full of people. Its an interesting phenomenon from a resource allocation perspective.
He was refering to our discussions about my interest in understanding how resources flow in the ED (both human and equipment resources).
Me: Ok. Thanks.
I went and stood outside room 18. I couldn't see much of what was going on inside because there were about 15 nurses, EDTs, paramedics, residents, attendings, and other staff in there. A couple them were working on the patient, including the doctor frantically applying chest compressions. The rest were watching.
The patient was an obese man, lying naked and uncovered on the bed, his feet towards the entrace to the room. I couldn't see his face. His whole body was shaking from the doctors compressing his chest. As I stood watching in the hallway, the admissions staff chatted about how it was a futile effort; they might as well declare him dead. At that moment it struck me how little dignity there is in such a death. The man was lying naked on a cold, bare hospital bed with 20 people surrounding him. People who had never met him in his life. People refering to him as 'patient in room 18' or 'the cardiac arrest' or simply '18'. His body was an empty shell. No name, no identity, no emotions, no soul. Paramedics who came out of the room told us that the man was long dead but they were letting the chest compressions go on so that the residents could get some practice. The shell was being used for practical purposes.
What a terrible way to die.
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