The Sound Of Silence Essay, Research Paper

The Sound of Silence

I have attended to many deceases in my short calling as a nurse. I guess that is the

hardest portion of geriatric nursing. I remember one adult male in peculiar, Joe* .

He was a veteran of World War II, and a retired machinist. He was about 90 when I

met him. His darling married woman of 45 old ages, Sara, had died merely months before. He was

diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease ( COPD ) . In this disease, the

lungs lose their snap and get down to make full up with fluid. Finally, a individual will

literally drown in his or her ain secernments. It is slow and sometimes really painful for a

individual to endure.

Taking study from the off-going nurse, I was non surprised to hear that Joe was

taking a bend for the worse. The doctor had been called earlier and ordered some

Morphine to ease his hurting. The mute ideas exchanged between us had been the

same, & # 8220 ; This is it & # 8221 ; . As I prepared for the long dark in front, I looked over Joe & # 8217 ; s chart. He

was listed as a & # 8220 ; DNR-Do Not Resuscitate & # 8221 ; . His wants were to decease without any

*All names have all been changed to protect privateness

life extenting agencies, merely comfort steps to ease his hurting. He had listed merely one boy

as a comparative. I proceeded to name his boy, Jack, to inform him of his male parent & # 8217 ; s alteration in

status. As a nurse, this is particularly difficult to manage. Most frequently, you expect households

to respond in heartache and sorrow. Sometimes, you encounter a cold, uncaring person who

does non desire to be bothered. Fortunately, Joe & # 8217 ; s boy was really concerned. He had

planned his usual weekend visit, but, sing this intelligence, would be up every bit shortly as

possible. Hanging up the phone, I felt sword lily that Joe would be with his household. So many

aged dice forgotten and entirely.

As I made unit of ammunitions, I could hear the familiar sounds of the dark in a nursing place:

soft snore, an occasional soft voice, telecastings and wirelesss, the familiar busyness of the

O machines and feeding tubings throughout the corridors. Even though Joe & # 8217 ; s room is

merely off the nurses & # 8217 ; station, I saved it for last knowing I would necessitate more than a twosome

of proceedingss to be given to him. As I walked into his dimly lit room, the familiar odor of

shaving pick and soap filled my olfactory organ. Kim, a nursing helper, had taken attention of Joe

for two old ages and was emptying a pan of H2O and unbending his room. Joe was

peculiar about his visual aspect and even in his lessened capacity, the nursing

helpers knew he wanted to look well-dressed. I touched his manus as I came to his

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bedside. His eyes opened, piercing blue and full of hurting. I told him that the pharmaceutics

would be conveying his stronger medical specialty within the hr and that his boy would be

coming shortly to be with him. He smiled a weak smiling, nodded and squeezed my manus.

I proceeded to take his critical marks, being careful non to bring down undue hurting. His blood

force per unit area was highly low and his external respiration was really laboured and slow. He wore a

rhinal cannula that provided warm

, moist O. His organic structure temperature was good below

normal. Kim kept a twosome of warm covers on him and the room warmer on low. He

was emaciated, resembling a tegument covered skeleton. The bell of my stethoscope was as

broad as his forearm. At 6 & # 8242 ; 3, & # 8221 ; he topped the graduated table at merely 92 lbs. His tegument was tissue

paper thin, with many little, dark purple contusions everyplace. He was propped on

pillows to ease the force per unit area of his spinal column pressing into the mattress. As I left him, I knew

in my bosom that he would non do it through the dark.

As I began to chart, the pharmaceutics shortly arrived with Joe & # 8217 ; s morphine serum. I decided

to page the doctor one time once more. With Joe & # 8217 ; s critical marks being every bit diminished as they

were, the morphia may hold depressed his respiration & # 8217 ; s to a point that they might

cease. The doctor, a long clip friend of mine, returned my paging. As I made him

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aware of the state of affairs originating with Joe, he instructed me to seek to wait until his boy

arrived before I gave the morphia. I hung up the phone, and laid my caput in my custodies

on the desk. I hated being placed in this state of affairs, my patient necessitating the alleviation and his

boy necessitating to pass a few minutes with his deceasing male parent. I know that my injecting Joe

with the morphia would rush decease to within 15 proceedingss. In nursing school, we

are taught that we are non doing a decease, it is a side consequence of the medicine. However,

when I am standing at a patient & # 8217 ; s & # 8212 ; a friend & # 8217 ; s bedside, it doesn & # 8217 ; t feel like a side consequence. It

feels like mercy killing.

Jack appeared, his apparels were disheveled and his salt and pepper hair was covered

with a baseball cap. The tall, barrel-chested adult male in his early 1950ss was a C transcript of

his male parent at that age. The images in Joe & # 8217 ; s room confirm the resemblance. Jack & # 8217 ; s married woman,

Karen, clad in an greatcoat and the same wrinkled garb was standing at Jack & # 8217 ; s side. Their

disquieted looks and mine spoke volumes. I prepared them for what would go on

with administring the medicine. Immediately Karen began to shout, & # 8220 ; I have to name the

childs & # 8221 ; . I directed her to the phone. Jack was standing silent, I touched his shoulder. & # 8220 ; Travel

see him. & # 8221 ; , I prompted.

Soon after the phone calls were made, three grandsons, one girlfriend, and a twosome

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of friends of the household all gathered. Within proceedingss, Jack emerged from the room. Joe

had asked for me. My bosom was in my pharynx. At Joe & # 8217 ; s bedside, I touched his manus, his

eyes met mine. I asked if he was in hurting. His voice was hardly hearable, & # 8220 ; I & # 8217 ; m ready. & # 8221 ; , he

whispered. I left the room and prepared the medicine. Upon returning, everyone left

the room except Jack. As I injected the morphia, Joe closed his eyes and squeezed his

boy & # 8217 ; s manus. I stoked Joe & # 8217 ; s hair briefly, kissed his brow and left. Minutess subsequently, Jack

appeared in the room access, his eyes filled with cryings as huged his boy. I went back into

Joe & # 8217 ; s room. Puting my stethoscope on his thorax, I heared a sound that will peal in my

ears everlastingly, the sound of silence.

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