The PICU

Today was a tough day for me in the PICU. This place is wonderful because of the personalized attention you get - the nursing ratio is either one nurse to one patient or at most one nurse to two patients, there is a fellow on the floor 24 hours a day, and the residents have at least one year of training under their belts - but at the end of the day, it's still an intensive care unit with some very sick kids.

We've been in the PICU twice before, but never for longer than two days. We've seen some stressful situations occur during those stays and being in the PICU was one of my most dreaded parts of this surgery. We lucked out in being moved to a room away from everyone a couple days after we got here. that isolation has shielded me from some of the goings on in the PICU. Today those shields failed, and I was knocked flat on my ass. An adorable little boy, who was probably only 5 years old and was staying a few doors down from us, passed away. 

I knew something was going on last night when the conference room was overflowing with visitors for him. The PICU has strict visiting hours and a limit on 3 visitors at the bedside. There were at least 20 people here past the end of visiting hours. Not a good sign. Today there was a somber mood around his room, and I knew things were near the end when I heard the mom discussing organ donation with a nurse. I left around 2 pm to go to the Kohl's House for a shower and a nap. When I came back around 5 pm, his room had been cleared out. All of his toys, the decorations on the door, everything, was gone; the room was just a sterile PICU room. No more spider man blanket and decal, no more Lightening McQueen shoes, no more drawings and signs, no more Eduardo.

Naturally, the passing of a child (or anyone for that matter) would upset me, but this boy had so much spirit. Not more than three days ago, he was walking around the floor. He came over to our room because his friend Jackie had been in the room before us and he was looking for her. He had so much spirit and energy.  I have no idea what he had or why he was in the PICU, but it somehow felt more wrong that this happy little boy who was walking around and playing could suddenly be gone.

Additionally, as part of the liver community, it's grown commonplace for me to hear parents of children who received cadaver livers talk about the the selfless decision of family members who agree to donate the organs of their loved ones. That whole sentiment of being able to think about doing the right thing to help others when you are dealing with such an immeasurable loss really hit home in the small bit of conversation I overheard today. I can't imagine what those parents were experiencing. It doesn't matter whether this turn in events was expected or sudden; I suspect these were the worst moments of their lives and in the midst of it all, they were able to consider what they could do to help one or more other children. Wow. It makes me feel so good and so heartbroken at the same time.

All of this was just a little too much for me to handle today. I want out of the PICU and I want to take my little man home.

Please keep this family in your thoughts and prayers and remember to appreciate your loved ones and the health that you have.