This story is based on an event that happened while I was working in the ICU. It’s something that made me think a lot so I decided to write a story about it. I hope you enjoy reading it. The featured image is taken from Pinterest.

***

At the circular juncture of the corridor stood the tall pine tree decked in fairy lights and festive ornaments. Beyond it, the long passage led down towards the consultant cabins, the short hallway on the right led to one of the general wards. And the hallway on the left led to the intensive care unit. The magnificent tree was set up in the centre of it all to alleviate the heavy perennial atmosphere that enveloped the hospital. To give the sick some semblance of hope. 

There were fifteen days left for Christmas, and the festivities would soon escalate. But not for those stuck working in the hospital, especially those working in the intensive care unit, where patients clung to their lives with every breath they took. Among the staff was a fresh intern who was still taking baby steps into the medical world. A person whose heart had not yet been calloused by human mortality.  

Barely glancing at the tree that stood in the hallway, the intern walked into a world where monitors beeped twenty-four hours while they monitored their respective patients. It had only been a week since she had joined her new posting, and she had already gotten used to the noise around her. She headed straight for the counter with a skip in her step before greeting her resident in charge. Behind the navy blue mask that covered most of her face beamed a person who was still giddy from the previous night. 

After receiving the list of patients that required sampling, the intern walked into the storeroom to equip herself with the essential paraphernalia. She stuffed her pockets with dozens of syringes, vials, lots of cotton wool and a thin rubber tube she used as a tourniquet. She donned a pair of white, powdered latex gloves before darting towards the first name on the list. 

As the intern walked to the first bed number on the list, she hummed a tune of her favourite song but stopped short when she saw the semi-conscious patient that lay spread eagle on the bed. He had tubes going into his nostrils, another tube inserted into his mouth while his hands were tied to the bed to prevent him from pulling them out. His thin body was covered in dry patchy lesions except for his oedematous forearm that exuded liquid. Guilt washed over her. Pushing all thoughts of the previous night to the back of her head, with caution, she approached the patient.

The intern tied the thin rubber tube around his arm. Cleaned the area with spirit before placing her fingers over it to feel for any prominent vein. For a few minutes, she tried her best to locate one. But unable to find one, she decided to take an arterial sample instead. She removed the tourniquet before placing her thumb on the cubital fossa. In a calm, collected manner, she moved it over the area. Until she located the place with the most prominent pulsations. 

“Please do not move,” She said, holding the syringe in her hand like one held a pen. But before she could prick the patient, he shoved his hand away. 

The intern let out a sigh and kindly asked his attendant to hold his hand in place. Two hands grabbed onto his bony arm without a second of hesitation. Once again, she repeated the procedure to locate his brachial pulse as the patient tried fighting against his constraints and the overpowering hands. The moment she located it, with precise aim and accuracy, she eased the needle deep into his skin. The patient let out an immediate cry. But unwavering, the intern drove the needle deeper until blood gushed into the transparent syringe. 

The bright red blood filled up the cylindrical instrument. With the same calmness, the intern withdrew the needle from his arm. She placed a wad of cotton over the punctured site. Carefully she donned the cap over the needle that had a bubble of blood clinging onto the tip before detaching the needle and pouring the contents into separate vials. In a sympathetic voice, she handed them over to the patient’s attendant while explaining where they had to submit them before moving on to the next patient on the list. The intern walked around the ward with the equipment threatening to spill out of her coat pockets. For an hour and a half, she worked in a frenzy, reporting back to the counter only after she was done ticking off each name from the list.

As the intern waited for her next assignment, the phone in her pocket chimed. She picked it up to see a message displayed on the screen that brought a smile to her lips. The butterflies in her belly fluttered as she read his heartfelt message. She bit her lower lip, but before she could reply to him, her resident in charge handed her a BP app. Making a mental note to call him the moment she was done with her work, she bolted towards the patients whose blood pressure had to be monitored.

After the intern completed recording the fifth patient on the list, she came across a patient a little younger than her. The girl had a frail body with a dozen wires hooked up to the monitor. Like most patients admitted into the ICU, she was unconscious. The intern wrapped the cuff around the patient’s thin arm, placed the bell of the stethoscope in place and inflated the BP cuff. After the pressure had reached 200mm of Mercury, steadily she released the pent up air and listened. But no sound reverberated in her ear. The korotkoff sounds she had gotten used to hearing did not emanate from the patient’s arm. Without putting much thought into it, she tried again.

Like the first time, everything remained silent. Determined to hear those korotkoff sounds, the intern tightened the screw once again and held the bell of the stethoscope firmly against the patient’s arm. But before her fingers could compress the air bulb, a gut-wrenching wail echoed throughout the ward. The hairs on the intern’s hand stood on end as she watched the mother of the young girl cry, clinging to her daughter’s body. The monitor the patient was hooked onto switched all of a sudden. And began blaring an alarming sound.

Out of instinct, the intern’s hand reached out for the patient’s wrist, searching for a pulse. While the mother let out a guttural cry, the girl’s father turned to look at her for answers. The tiny cubicle she was standing in seemed larger as a wave of panic washed over her. Her eyes searched for a familiar face while she bit her lower lip hard, thinking of the right words to say. 

When her eyes met the resident in charge, who came running towards the commotion. All the intern could manage was shake her head at him. Understanding the situation, he immediately rounded up the nurses who grabbed the emergency drugs and another dragged in an ECG machine. The first thing the resident did, was to tell someone to take the heartbroken mother away. Using a lot of force, the father managed to carry his hysterical wife out of the ward.

Unable to do much, the intern walked out of the cubicle while her hands shook. She watched the brawny resident bend over the patient with arms outstretched giving one chest compression after the other. While the team worked tirelessly, all she could think of was the mother. The wail had caught her so off guard that she could hear it resonate somewhere in her subconscious. Never before had a sound had such an impact on her. 

After what seemed like forever, the resident called it, wiping the sweat on his brow on his scrubs. The intern turned to look at the couple who stood in the corridor, waiting for news. She replayed the scene over and over again in her head. And couldn’t help but wonder how did she know. Her eyes were fixed on the unconscious mother. Did human mortality transcend through the tight bonds that held people together? The mother knew before that machine could even alert anyone. She knew before science did. 

The intern forced herself to look away from the couple. She took in a deep breath, looked at the next name on the list and went back to work. As much as she wanted to ponder the mysteries of life and death, she had work to do. Pushing back the memory to the back of her head, she repeated the procedure once again. While others lay dying around her, she moved ahead.