3rd Place 2022 GHHS Essay Contest Winner

By Mariah Gosling

I met Mrs. B on a Monday morning while working with the geriatrics team. We were consulted for a depression evaluation and to coordinate goals of care. Mrs. B was admitted for shortness of breath and throughout her month in the hospital she was on a ventilator, became septic and had multiple bilateral thoracentesis. A CT scan showed a mass in her lungs, likely lung cancer. She was also found to have COVID-19 and per hospital protocol, was sentenced to a 20 day isolation. I say sentenced because this is what really killed her. Twenty days in the intensive care unit with minimal human contact was so unbearable that she had lost her will to live. The first time I met Mrs. B, she did not look me in the eyes and I wasn’t even sure she could hear me.

Initially, her daughters pushed to work up her CT findings for definitive answers. After discussions with numerous team members, it was thought that an invasive workup would cause more harm than good. This was a gentle reminder of nonmaleficence, one of our core ethical principles. Following an emotional family meeting, it was decided that her best option was hospice care once she was stable.

I spent the morning and afternoon every day that week meeting with Mrs. B to see how she was doing. I provided the best medicine I could- human interaction. As the days went on, I was amazed as she became a completely different person. I remember the way her eyes lit up when I spoke to her. I remember the way she listened to me with pure intention. As I talked, she wanted to hold my hand and squeeze it tightly every now and then. I asked her questions about her life, but realized she preferred to listen. I’m not much of a talker myself, but I made a conscious effort to connect through conversation. I would tell bad jokes and she laughed. She closed her eyes as her smile took up her entire face. I noticed everyday her face looked brighter and her smile grew a little bigger. I felt grateful to be a fourth year medical student with an abundance of time. Mrs. B taught me the importance of being present for our patients. When I walked into her room, I felt myself reset and let go of everything going on in my life. This allowed me to be there for her physically and more importantly, emotionally. Our patients can feel this.

Mrs. B made it to hospice care on Sunday. When I came in on Monday morning she had passed. I was shocked. A flood of emotions came over me. We estimated a prognosis of months not a few days. I took a deep breath and thought about the past week. I felt peace knowing I was there and the best version of myself in her final days. A few meaningful conversations and sharing my time was the best gift I could give. As I reflect on this experience, I recognize the beauty and importance of making time for our patients in our everyday interactions and most of all in their final moments.