my good buddy

I sobbed driving home from work yesterday. They let him die. Okay, no, he was going to die. They let him suffer. For the last 5 days Will Ferninger has been telling me and the other therapists/nurses that he feels like he's dying. "I just know it's happening. I can feel it." As a child survivor of the Dresden during WW2, his lung disease began by inhaling particles in air released during the bombings and its aftermath. It worsened over the years as he spent hours/day inhaling flour, working as a baker in the US. Although his lungs were developing pulmonary fibrosis (scarring of lung tissue), the disease never manifested itself until recently. This is how PF is often described, like walking towards a cliff and then one day you just fall off. Once it's symptoms present themselves, it happens fast.

So when Mr. F went from being able to shower himself on 6 liters of oxygen to showering with total assistance the next week and struggling for a breath on 15 liters, we knew it wouldn't be long. And he openly discussed this, but not with everyone. He would not tell the doctor or his family. "How you doing today Mr. F?" "Oh fine really, hope to get better." I overheard this conversation with the doctor the day before he died. But why? Why wasn't he able to tell the doctor how he was really feeling? Machoism?

It happened in the middle of the night, he couldn't breathe. DNR, DNI means there's no turning back. They put him on 100% O2 with a non rebreather and shipped him off to the emergency room at a local acute care hospital. He died in the hands of strangers when we could have made him comfortable. His family was called in the middle of the night when we saw this coming on through the whole day.

But then again, maybe he died in the hands of more kind strangers like the ones he met at our hospital and was able to share so much with. Maybe that's just what he needed at the end of his life- to see so many strangers caring, when early in life he saw so many strangers being cruel (as a child during WW2). And maybe I wasn't crying just about Mr. F. Today my mom is gone 13 years ago. She died in emergency room and my family was called in the middle of the night.

"Will, why are you crying?" Mr. F's girlfriend asked him as tears rolled down his face after he introduced us. "I am crying because she is such my good buddy." Holding back my own tears, I said, "Yes, Will we are good buddies." May you forever rest in peace, Mr. Ferninger. Hope you meet a lovely lady up there who might also call me her good buddy.