The Broken Heart of a Child...

It was a Friday night and I was feeling fresh and eager to jump right into work in the emergency room. As I walked through those doors I was energized and ready  for whatever arrived, I learned later in the shift, I was not as ready as I thought.

Right away I noticed a sweet little elderly lady sitting in a wheelchair next to the bed in her room. She looked as though she had so many thoughts going through her head that it was spinning out of control. I watched her as she looked so deep in thought, then she noticed I was looking her way and she broke into a big smile. I asked could I help her get onto the bed and she said, “no, I am perfectly capable, but thanks.” Moments passed and I saw her slide onto the bed, scoot around until she found just the right position; then she displayed great pleasure in her accomplishment. To see her smiling and even clapping for herself, warmed my heart. 

We had a tremendous rush of cases coming in one right after another for several hours.

I looked up to see the most memorable case of the night was heading in the door. She had long black hair that hung down the side of the gurney and swayed back and forth as it moved, her thin fingers dangled and revealed neatly polished nails of pink and I noticed a Hello Kitty ring on her finger as she passed. It was a young girl, who was receiving chest compressions as they rolled her in. Her grandmother arrived at the same time as the ambulance. I listened to the grandmother as she waited outside the code room where the patient had been taken. I was unable to get her to sit or wait in the waiting room. She looked so frail, and her face showed so much pain and grief I could feel it in the air as she spoke.

The grandmother began to tell the story of her granddaughter. Della was 13 years old and had been full of life and mischief. She had always been headstrong and stubborn. Della’s mother had died when she was only a toddler and the grandmother said, “I done my best by this child but it just wasn’t good enough”. 

She told the story of Della coming home a few weeks ago and declaring that she was in love with a boy named Max. “Max is gorgeous, he is sweet and I love him!” is what Della repeated for days. The grandmother explained that she was far too young to be in love with anyone. Della insisted, “I am not too young, I know true love, I LOVE MAX!”

Today Della came in from school with such a sad look on her face. When asked, she told her grandmother that Max had kicked her to the curb. He was in love with another girl and no longer wanted to be her boyfriend. She repeatedly said, “I wish I was DEAD!”

Della screamed and ranted and cried for over an hour. At that point the grandmother told Della, “it will get better, you will see”. Della stubbornly insisted she did not want to live without Max and went to her room, slamming the door behind her.

The grandmother said that she decided to let her stay in there and calm down. She went on about her business, she checked on Della later when supper was ready. Della screamed, “I never want to eat again, go away”. Then she added, “I wish I was dead!”

The grandmother said, “I left her alone and went to bed”, "then I woke up at about midnight and I'm not really sure why". "I hopped up and decided to check on Della". "Oh, God!"
Her knees began to buckle as she spoke, but she regained her strength.

She told how she found Della on the floor. The empty bottle of blood pressure pills lay by her side. It was almost half a bottle of Toprol 100mg, and the child had taken about 10 of them. The grandmother said "I always left my blood pressure pills in the hall bathroom cabinet and never dreamed this could happen".

The paramedics had administered CPR all the way in and we had the best of the best in our ER  working to save this young, confused little girl who had her whole life ahead of her; but it was futile. This was the end of the road for Della. Our entire staff was suffering for the loss of this child. It is heart breaking not to be able to save someone who is so young. I felt her loss and everyone there was deeply moved by it; though we did not know her in life, we mourned her death. 

I also felt so much empathy for that grandmother who was in the depths of despair and no words could comfort her.

In the ER I watched the beginning of life, I watched the end of life and everything in between, but certain cases were more painful than others and this patient’s story tore at my heart for a long time. Over the years I had learned that when you work where tragedy and death are commonplace, it becomes necessary to let go of the painful things you see, in order to preserve your own joy.