Talking About Death
By Emma Catherine
“Okay, she’s gone.”
I made the announcement to my patient’s family as they held her hand and I watched the cardiac monitor. We had been waiting for my patient to pass for the last hour and I had handed off my work phone to another nurse so that I could stay in the room with the family. Now that it was over, I turned off the monitor on the wall and rested my hand on the shoulder of a family member before turning to the door.
“I am going to give you all some time; let me know if you need anything.”
I had been off the floor for a while, so I went to check on my other assigned patients and after seeing to their needs, I went and took a minute for myself in the break room. I closed my eyes, said a quick prayer for the repose of my patient’s soul, had a drink of water, and then went back out to the unit.
I was a nurse on an intermediate care unit at a large hospital, and this wasn’t my first time seeing a patient pass away. It wasn’t even my tenth time. In my first few years as a nurse, I saw death on that unit more than I liked. It was there that I was introduced to different kinds of deaths. There was the kind that was expected and somewhat peaceful, where we knew it was coming, the patient had time to get their affairs in order, and family could get there to say their goodbyes. There was the kind that was fought against and occasionally traumatic, where we coded patients, performing CPR for sometimes hours. I met patients who were “ready” and those who weren’t. And while no death was easy to see, I found myself grateful for the encounters I had.
I didn’t use to think about death that often. Similar to most young people, I never really thought about my own mortality. And as someone who never had to suffer through the loss of anyone close to me, I didn’t think about the mortality of others either. Growing up, I knew that I wanted to make good choices and avoid sin so that I would go to Heaven to be with God when I died, but that seemed so far off. And, often, not thinking about death led to not thinking about consequences of my choices. How often did I think, “I’ll fix that problem later”, “I’ll say sorry to that person later”, or “I’ll call my grandma back later.” What if there was no “later?”
As I had the honor of taking care of people during the last hours of their life, I began to wonder more and more, what will the last hours of my life look like? Will I have regrets? Will I feel at peace? Will I be scared? Will I feel confident that I am going home to be with Jesus, our Lord?
In his Mexico City 2019 Video Message to Young People, Pope Francis said, “The question of death is the question of life, and keeping the question of death open, perhaps, is the greatest human responsibility so as to keep the question of life open.” The only way to answer the questions I have about my death, is through my life. How I choose to live my life and Who I choose to live it for is up to me and if I do those things right, I will know how the last hours of my life will look.
