I Swear You Will Be Fine

I had a patient last week. A young guy who presented with a sudden onset of chest pain. My team worked so efficiently. ECGs and all the necessary were done even before I asked for it. I rarely see these types of cases so I was a bit panicky. He was clearly having a heart attack right in front of me. I was more worried he would collapse and I wouldn’t remember how to proceed. But as I said, my team was amazing. They called for the paramedics and they arrived in minutes.

As I was writing the referral letter and gathering the necessary documents, I prompted for one of the paramedics to speak with me so I could hand over the patient. They had already been in my consultation room for about 10 minutes. But it was at that moment that I glanced at the sleeve of his uniform which said SCDF. And everything came rushing back to me. I had to keep telling myself, “Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. You can’t break down right now. Concentrate on the patient”. So that’s what I did.

But the thoughts kept coming in. That horrendous night when our world shattered. The moment the paramedics came into the house and into your room. And when they said to us, “ we need some space”. It feels like I was watching a movie, but not my movie. The thoughts of us leaving the room so they could work on you. And the distinct second that the paramedics said to us that nothing could be done. Weirdly, I don’t even remember what was said exactly. You’d think I would remember this. But maybe it’s because I knew the answer well before they stepped into the house.

The hours that followed. With the presence of the police and the paramedics intertwined into one. Within minutes, it was the police that were speaking to us, because there was nothing more the paramedics could do other than assist the police. As we went into the New Year, they maintained their professionalism, something we would talk about several times.

They were around until the end. When they carried you out, I couldn’t bear to look and refused to see it. I hope you’re not angry about that Josh. It is a regret I constantly have, one of many.

After everyone left, 2 SCDF officers came back into the house. I remember that exact scene. We were standing outside your room. They very solemnly looked at me and said, “on behalf of SCDF, we would like to express our deepest condolences”. I am surprised that I was coherent and stable enough to say “thank you”. It would be the first of many condolences we would have to receive.

So 7 months later, this was now my next experience with the paramedics. I managed to keep it together until they wheeled my patient out of my room. I even managed to thank the team for their great work.

When the whole episode was over with my patient, there was a moment of feeling proud. Like we had done all the right things and potentially saved this patient’s life. If you were physically around, I would have texted you and you would have said, “Good job Mum”.

I sometimes think as a Doctor I should constantly have the feelings of why I couldn’t save you. But I don’t. I truly believe everything that could have been done was done. And constantly trying to save you, was actually trying to save ourselves. To save ourselves from the pain and grief. I know you are at peace darling. Thank you for all the signs you send us to tell us so.

Love Mum