Oh Sigh...

I just wanted to share my experience with Desmond's family.

I've taken care of him so much, I jokingly called him the child I birthed. I don't want to sound crass, but he really needed to move on to living with Jesus. We all felt that way. It seemed to take way too long. The family annoyed us. Never there. Came about 1 pm, turned the tv on, and left again to get lunch. Always wanted a hand out. Something we see far too much, and it gets irritating.

Des's great grandma, aunt and grandpa came yesterday morning from Pine Ridge, SD. Mom was still sleeping at the Rainbow House at 11:00, which again irritated me. I explained to the family present what was going on with Des. The grandpa had a very very difficult time seeing his grandchild for the first time. Des looked awful. No way to prepare someone for that. He was sobbing, started yelling, and took off out of the unit. Grandma said she was very worried about his temper, and that he had been drinking already that morning. Yay. I get to work with an angry Native American man that has broken out windows in a hospital before.

He came back several hours later. Said he had gotten into a fight with 2 black guys wanting money while he was out walking on his "suicide mission." Oh Lord, Robyn. The things you get yourself into.

He was very clear with mom this was too much for Des. Prolonging his life on machines was inhumane. Mom was getting hit hard yesterday with the realization of what she had heard for weeks on end. Now she had family telling her what she didn't want to hear. He wanted to talk with mom privately, asked me to come along. Great. Closed door session with angry Indian and mom who has irked me as a parent not parenting as I feel would be appropriate. Be professional Robyn.

They sat and talked. I listened and answered questions as I could. He asked me at one point if I had kids. Yes, 3. "Would you let your kids be in this situation?" There actually had been numerous conversations with the staff, as there always is in these cases, of how we could not allow our kids to get put through as much as he has been. So yes, I'd thought of my kids in this situation. My filter was off during my maternal moment and I said, "I would have a very hard time seeing my child like Desmond is."

The day went on, Desmond deteriorated, we ended up having to bag him an hour to get through a "let me go on my own" moment of his. I called mom to have her come ASAP. She said she could be up in 30 minutes. They were at Applebee's. OMG WOMAN!! Your kid is dying and again, you want to eat. Self control and professionalism Robyn.

Fast forward to the decision to "pull the plug" as the family kept referring to it as. We got mom situated with Des, holding him in the chair after the tube was removed. It made me happy to see her holding him close to her. All my crappy thoughts about her were gone in that time. Got a tear in my eye. I told the family I had taken care of him a lot, and considered him "my little Desi." I said he was never Desmond to me, I always called him Desi. I took pictures of him and mom together.

Grandpa had another episode. Got ready to pound the wall and I walked him out to the waiting area outside of the elevators. He held my hand as he told me about growing up Lakota. Very hard life. Was on the reservation in 1973 when they resisted the government where the Battle of Wounded Knee happened years and years ago. He was 8. His dad armed him with a gun. He killed people. He admitted he was a very angry man. He had seen too much in his life. But losing his grandson was the worst. He served numerous tours in Iraq from 1991 to 2006. Has PTSD from that. Again, reminded me what an angry man he was. We talked yet for awhile. I cried, just listening and realizing how privileged my life of never trying to get a free meal was, never losing a child, never shooting anyone, never being an alcoholic, never being an angry person, never taking advantage of a free housing situation for myself and my kids. Lisa called me and said Jayesh was going to pronounce and wanted me in the room.

Grandpa and I walked back into the unit, hand in hand, with security guards present. I no longer needed them.

I watched the mourning. I listened to the Lakota language, sending Desi off to their tribal leaders and family. My stoic heart was human again.

It was nearing 1830 and I told mom I'd be leaving soon and Ashley would be there for the night shift to help bathe him and do all the memory stuff with her. She meekly asked, "Can we do it together before you leave?" Oh my heart.

Some days I miss out on so much due to the nature of my "observe the situation only" beast. Then I get slapped in the face...she's a mom. Like me. She needs comfort. Like me. She needs strength. Like me.  She wants me to join her in one of the last events with her son. I'm honored.

The job of being a nurse. Wow. I'm so blessed.