As Azrael Only Shuts Up

Dying, may happen fast, or even slowly. Those fast one, as the breath stops, soon the heart stops beating. But the slow one, when the breath stops, but the heart keeps running. And yesterday, I had one died slowly.

The nurse told me that the 76-years-old lady didn’t breath anymore. They had intubated her throat, and the oxygen level in her lung only depended on the nurse’s power to pump the bag. By the bag, oxygen from a big barrel next to her bed would stream into her lung, and finally pumped her heart. The problem was, her body couldn’t flow the oxygen efficiently to the whole of her body. Briefly, her body was dead. Only her heart and her brain weren’t.

The nurses kept pumping her. Her heart didn’t work comfortably, sometimes it beat so slowly, sometimes it beats so fast like being chased by a dog. “Momma is still around, Momma is still here,” the patient’s husband sounded trying to please himself.
I glanced at him in pity. The family’s definition of “still here” aren’t same to doctor’s.

The patient’s family, which finally we let gathering into the Care Unit, cried. The husband believed more to the number of pulse in the monitor, rather than seeing the patient who’d never move anymore. Their children had been praying, they trusted my mimic more than the damn computer. No lying to ourselves. Mother ain’t here anymore.

The husband, kept asking the nurse pumping, as long as the heart rate hasn’t reached number of zero. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Thirty minutes. An hour. Two hours. I checked up the heart and the brain of the (future) corpse. Still beating.

“The cardiologist gave her inotropic, Doc,” whispered the nurse to me. “That’s why her heart still is on.”
OMG, I wiped my unsweaty forehead. No wonder her heart couldn’t stop breathing.

One by one, her fingers began to pale. Her pupils began to narrow. Urine had stopped flowing from her bladder. I glanced to the door. I felt Azrael had come.

“Are you gonna take her?” I asked in my mind. “This is your time, hurry up.”

But, like mocking me who seemed know-it-all, the patient’s heart began to rock again. It had been running fast, suddenly began to run slowly like normal. The low pressure, started to raise. 116/67. Her husband looked smiling. “Ah, Momma’s still around. C’mon, Zooster, keep pumping,” he said cheering up.

I thought I was sad. It didn’t mean that the lady recovered. It only signed that the heart rate weren’t synchronized with the pulse. She was supposed to be dead by now. But Azrael swung her soul like an oscillation.

It broke my heart to see the terrible monitor. Why was it so hard to die?

I must wait until her heart really stopped. Until her pupil dilated, meant that the brain death had come. After all, I might announce her death. She might be dead before my work shift ended at 3.30 PM later. But she might be dead tonight, or tomorrow, after I got home from the office. My shift could end, but the diseased’s pain kept continuing. Coz Azrael still shat up at the door, and he still hadn’t entered the room. And the nurse still pumped her. And her children still cried for her pain. And the suffered patient, coz she still hadn’t known when her life would be taken away.

I Don’t Like Crocs!

I don't like these shoes.

I don’t like these shoes.

Or, I just don’t even get it why people love these shoes which tip are round and fat, and holey, with overbright colors. So not pretty and it looked childish. So why do people keep hunting these shoes? Aren’t there any prettier footwears? I don’t even wanna have one though I get it for free.

By the way, if you wonder, Crocs is on sale in Sabuga, Bandung, Indonesia, and it’s discounted for 70%. Only until December 5th. Little tip for you: Don’t forget to bring your portable chair. It’s a long queue. :p

And this is not advertisement!