Dead Men Walking

One of my greatest regrets of working in the Anaesthesia department is the lack of follow up.

In other words, I hardly know what happpens to the patient after they leave my care. Surely, the greatest satisfaction one can have is to see someone brave through a stormy illness and step out to greet the sunny skies.

The majority of our patients are seen in the intensive care unit or the operating theatres. You can be well assured that none of these patients are allowed to WALK out, much less be discharged from the hospital!

Yet, God has a way of throwing a few 'sunbursts' along the way.

One evening, after a particularly tiring day, I stared blankly at the parking lot while lining up to pay for my purchases in the hospital shop. Silently, I was resenting the long queue that was obstructing my planned quick exit from work. As I turned to study the people in the long queue, I could not help but notice a young man.

He must be a young punk.

You know, they are the sort who dress up like hip-hop artiste wannabes, sunglasses and all even if it's so dark they can't see beyond their fingers. He had a jumper with a hood pulled over his head, knee length shorts with worn-out sneakers. Then I noticed something else - he was thin, abnormally, heart-wrenchingly thin.

Oh wait a minute... I know this guy...

I could hardly suppress a smile when I finally recognised him. Short of calling out his name, I tried to catch his eye, but he was obviously trying to remain as anonymous as possible.

Gary* was a young hairdresser admitted to ICU for severe complications after several cycles of chemotherapy. I had seen him in the ward, brought him into ICU, saw him deteriorate into a coma and wondered many times if he would survive the ordeal. Following that I was rotated out of ICU duties and, like many other patients, didn't know the continuation of his story.

Seeing him stride out of the shop, arm full of junk food, was probably the highlight of my week!

On another occassion, our ICU team was headed to the hospital canteen for a quick morning break. As we stepped into the canteen, we were stopped by a hospital attendant who worked in our department. He shook our hands and introduced us to his father - another patient who had a miraculous recovery.

Months earlier, Ali's* father was involved in a car accident that left him with several fractures and a huge clot in his brain. The neurosurgeons did their best to clear the clot, but the initial clinical signs were bad and we concurred that he had a slim chance to recover from his coma. As expected, he deteriorated further and the family was called in and kept updated about his progress. Somehow, Ali's father hung on precariously, but remained in a coma.

The family was so thankful for what little signs of life he had, and the tireless efforts of the ICU staff that they bought us lunch packets one day as a sign of their appreciation. Again, I was finishing my ICU rotation, but quietly signed off the chances of this unfortunate man.

Imagine my surprise and delight, to not only see Ali's father again, but to see him walk unaided into the hospital compound months later for his clinic follow-up.

Such patients are refreshing rays of sunlight through the thick, overcast clouds that often hang over our ICU patients. Most have lives hung precariously over the edge of life and death. Daily, our ICU staff toils to tip the scales in their favour. Often it just doesn't seem to be worth the effort.

These 'sunbursts' makes it all worthwhile.


*not real names