January Blog post

Monthly Hours: 9, Cumulative Hours: 9

This month, I have continued in my position at Manning Family Children's Hospital. I volunteer for three hours every Sunday in the cardiac intensive care unit. Usually, I am able to stay busy, helping around with the nurses and the families. Last Sunday was a difficult day because on arrival, I saw that one of the children who had been there for a couple of months had a privacy divider up in front of their room with a picture of a sunset on it. I knew immediately what was happening. Seeing family members come and go from their child's bay throughout the evening is never easy. That moment reminded me of the first time I saw a patient truly suffering. 

Back in Austin when I first joined the pediatric cardiac surgical team, I remember being called to the cath lab to help with a patient: a young teenager, his skin purple and yellow, resisting weakly as I tried to help him move. While distress and resistance from pediatric patients isn't uncommon, he was the first patient that, when I looked in his eyes, I could see he was truly suffering. His heart transplant had failed. He had been on and off ECMO, having 2-3 surgeries a week to replace catheters and prevent infections. The medical team knew that he was suffering. But his parents weren't ready to say goodbye. I wasn't the decision maker in this case, but I know I’ll be part of these choices one day. I saw the weight this situation carried on our team. Our surgeons and anesthesiologist continued to speak with the family. Ultimately I didn't know what happened, but after a couple weeks of his absence, I knew. I didn't ask. I didn't need to.

I saw that same weight carried by the nurses and physicians last Sunday; the appreciation the family showed for the medical team, even in what was probably one of the worst moments of their lives. Moments like that are always extremely difficult, seeing the realities and limits of medicine. But I think that discomfort matters. I’ve seen how physicians and other allied health professionals carry the weight of truth and of families’ wishes, while advocating for the patient’s best interest. When I hold that moral responsibility, I hope to bring compassion, honesty, and courage to those making the most difficult decision of their life.