Nurse Diaries: The Kid

The Kid

            I saw the kid walking on the hospital corridors. He was a kid with a tough exterior, more like the type you will never get fond of, neither the type you’ll hate. In such a young age, he took over the responsibility of watching over his seriously ill grandfather. At some occasions you’ll see him laugh, the kind of laugh children in their realms of childhood possessed, but most occasions, you’ll see the trace of difficulty life has inflicted upon him.

            He smiled at me enthusiastically as I went into his grandfather’s room to provide his intravenous medicines. He was there keenly observing end eyeing on me as if indirectly implying that I have to do my job well ‘cause he’s watching. But from how I see, it clearly means he’s hoping that every treatment could aid in improving his grandfather’s prognosis, I can see by the way his eyes lit up. During my succeeding shifts, I noticed that basically, he’s always been the one at the bedside, patiently watching, unaware of what’s to come next.

            It was like any other morning shift except that it was eerily quiet and there were miraculously only nine patient census. I was on the nurse station writing endorsements when the kid stormed in claiming his grandfather was no longer moving. Like a reflex, I and other two staff nurses ran like there’s a race and that room is the finish point. I arrived at the room first and immediately checked for any movement, breathing and pulse. There were no signs of breathing but his pulse was present, it was slow and barely palpable, but still a pulse nonetheless. But unfortunately, that resilient hope to live is gradually fading. Another staff nurse arrived followed by the physician and we started on CPR and bagging followed by shots of Epinephrine. As much as we have tried what’s left of our strength and effort to revive the patient, we haven’t. The kid (who’s only the watcher present that time) kept on calling for his grandfather to wake up, clueless of the real condition. How do you break a bad news to a kid? How? There’s just no easy way, it’s brutally heartbreaking.

            The kid was staring blankly waiting for someone to break the silence, finally, the doctor spoke up in the easiest language possible for the kid to understand, “I’m sorry child, but your grandfather’s heart have stopped working. He’s dead” the kid with a wary look on his eyes looked straight into the doctor’s eyes and said “can you make his heart pump again, please?” “No. I’m sorry.” The doctor replied. And the kid began loud sobs of genuine love and grief I have never seen before. As I was removing all the tubing left of that dead body, the kid was still weeping inconsolably. I couldn’t help but realize that a person have done great influence to people’s lives not just by the amount and duration of tears they shed for you but the time they dwell on your side during your lowest times. And I knew right then and there that that body of an old man lying lifeless in front of me has given much love and care to the kid who’s crying at his grandfather’s feet.

            The kid, I thought. The kid who reciprocated the love of his grandfather by being the only source of support of the latter’s feeble times. The kid who has been slapped far more by life’s heartaches and misery than any older adults. The kid who has faced so much difficulties children of his age will never grasp. The kid, I thought, what will become of him? Who will watch over him? I don’t know, but I’d like to think he’ll get through it. I saw the kid walking on the hospital corridors, and that was the last time I saw him.