Speechless. Just speechless. I was deafened by her silence. It took me a while to obtain words from her and she was spontaneous when she said those familiar words to me: "to pass my life in purity and practice my profession faithfully." Right then and there, I knew we had something in common- we were both instruments of compassion. I am still building and she's just broken.
Her chart revealed failure. I was saddened to discover that she never had visitors since her first admission to the Davao Mental Institution for six years now. She never had one because in the first place, she presented herself alone to be admitted. That was peculiar but her doctor had her findings on early stages of Alzheimer's disease on her young age of 28. She seldom speaks and if she does, same words are blabbed out. I knew my affiliation only gave me to weeks to attend to her so I had my full attention focused. She was the silent type but I can attest to her frequent mood swings. I often find her crying every morning but whenever I talk to her, she seemed to not listen. But I never regretted spending five days constantly waiting for her to connect to me, for then on the sixth day, she started talking.
I belonged to a family of four, I was the fifth. I was my mother's infamous daughter. So I lived a life that wasn't mine from the beginning. I had to prove myself worthy so I studied hard to achieve my cap and to further get a license. I know that i that way, I made them proud of me, at least.
I graduated cum laude and volunteered at a public hospital for two years until I had a formal acquaintance as a staff nurse. In every way possible, I was guided with the words of perfection of my parents and furthermore, being a nurse means having no room for mistakes. I was preoccupied then but I knew exactly what I was doing not until one night I administered a large dose of Vitamin A supplements to a pregnant patient. I must have picked up the wrong bottle for I don't seem to remember anything. It took me a while to realize my mistakes. i knew I just destroyed a life of an unborn.
Time went fast and I never lost the feeling of guilt. Day by day, I find myself forgetting most of the time; from losing my car keys to disorienting myself on finding my way home until the day I finally started losing my senses. I was on my noc shift when I read the physician's order for an IV side drip of 10 U oxytocin. It struck me again. I stood alone, unaware of what to do. It jut came to me that I had to do something but I just forgot what it was. I knew I had it in my hands- a 10 ml syringe of Potassium Chloride ready for IVTT. I did it.My patient's monitor reading went flat, that was when it all came to me. I killed my patient.
I was the only witness of my crime. But my conscience never kept me silent. I left the hospital immediately but the cold crisp of the early mist of dawn kept me trembling awake. I started hearing voices in my head. They were loud and frequent, consistent and constant. My license, my cap, my reputation, my family's perfection; all gone. I lost my sanity. A day after, I found myself stepping on the damp floor of the mental institution. My story was a silent story.
Her words gave me goosebumps. She had it all gone in an instant. Long years of hard work to achieve her peers' acceptance were still snatched by her night's silent thief. Alzheimer's Disease chose her way too early and no one could blame her for that because she never wanted it.
I felt hot roll of tear on my tender cheeks. I learned that no matter how much effort you put into something you want to have, no matter how badly you work on it, once your body starts to deny, you just have to stop. In her case, unfortunate was the term. I may not know exactly how she feels right after telling me her story and returning to her usual state of staring blankly outside the window, but I knew she had the feeling of lightness in her heart. On my part, I learned the lesson of appreciating life and loving my state of sanity. In all times, you must learn to value yourself prior to being a philanthropist to others. It may be the end of her story but it all started mine.
Days before I left the institution, I was blessed to find her family. Finding them is the least I could do for my patient. That was the time I knew they learned to understand her silence in her lowest stage in life. Right before I bid her goodbye, she had her eyes rested on mine as she culminated the first few familiar words I heard her speak: " In the name of the Father, the son and the Holy Spirit".
