Death of a homeless woman

Three weeks in ICU, she was. No one could ever find any family. The cops even came and took pictures, sent them off somewhere far away. It was a dead end.

This GI bleed was the one that killed her. After her blood pressure dropped and she started seizing on the floor, she wound up in the ICU. She got continuous EEG and her blood pressure supported with medications requiring constant monitoring and frequent adjustment. Someone checked her blood sugar and urine output every hour.

Sarah was homeless. She couldn't get this kind of attention if she begged for it. She got a ventilator for three weeks, got liters of fluid drained off her swollen abdomen. They used a needle at first, but then the fluid just kept coming and coming, leaking out the tiny puncture hole from its endless source.

We turned her, cleaned her, talked to her. K. washed and braided her hair when the EEG monitoring was finally discontinued. Eventually, I stopped talking so much to her. What was there to say?

It was agreed by all that there was no hope for a meaningful recovery. The day she died, Sam stopped all her drips and took her FIO2 down to 21%-- room air. The ventilator kept giving her breaths, but it didn't matter. She couldn't live without the support. Sam had to take his other patient to CT scan, so as charge nurse I kept an eye on her.

There was no family to take care of this time. I talked to her again, told her it was okay and she would not have to worry anymore. She would not hurt or have to be afraid. Sam returned from his field trip, and we were there, quiet, when she went. I turned off the vent, we looked out the window. It was the kind of day she might have spent at the bus stop or outside a drug store, soaking up the sun.