#50 - Vendredi 1st Aout

d'être en vie (to be alive) mourir (to die)

Long blog today, but I make no apologies for it, long day!

Nice leisurely breakfast again, tried to make a filter coffee too late with just a mug... lots of hot steam and a bit off a mess managed to make a decent cuppa coffee... which did endeavor to keep me awake all day! Staff meeting this morning, so physio, dieticians were present too. It was alright and then the interne took me under her wing for her final day. I'd seen the son of my patient already this morning so I wasn't optimistic... he was sicker and had been moved to a side room. He was, sadly, going to die...

We started the ward round, after some faffing with computers, a well patient ready for home. I managed to help him with his phone, I think he was complaining his mobile was only 25% charged after over an hour charging.... its amazing how much you can help people without saying very much at all... I mean obviously assuming I did help him correctly, but still its something to think about. He offered me an after eight so I can't have been too wrong... My patient passed away as we knew he would, myself and the two doctors were very sad. The interne actually said 'I want to cry.' That doesn't happen with every patient, I don't want that to seem that doctors don't usually care - its just that some patients, for some reason, touch a little deeper. 

We moved onto another patient, he wasn't rousable which was very unusual. Completely unconcious but yes breathing and with a pulse... scary, scary few minutes, particularly with death at the forefront of our minds. It was decided his medication last night had provoced this and he was left to sleep. While this was happening a nurse popped in, Madame had chest pain, left hand side... ECG showed no changes and so we could take a deep breath. She felt very nauseous and it was difficult listening to her, she's old and weak and even vomiting or coughing for these people is difficult, you do start to loose control of your body. 

Whilst this commotion was going on, the son of my patient came out to speak to the interne and myself. I didn't understand alot of the spoken conversation, the interne didn't say alot either but we listened. We turned ourselves towards him, we smiled and listened as he spoke, as he broken down and stuggled to hide the tears and I fetched some tissues, you don't need to speak sometimes to understand and respond to someone's emotions. When he came to say goodbye before leaving he shook both of our hands thanking us, it was lovely, although I hadn't contributed alot to his care, he had been nominated 'my patient', we'd struggled with the ECG together and I felt I had more of a connection to him that a lot of patients before. He had been getting better and it was so sad to see him struggle, lovely man. 

The well patient, leaving today, had been my patients roommate. It was simultaneously heartbreaking and heartwarming to hear him ask after my patient. They'd been through everything together for a few days, (they don't have curtains here, which I'm not entirely happy about) anyway, chatting together, the well patient doting on him, sharing after eight mints. They had been adorable. The son of my patient spoke to the well man which I just thought was beautiful.

We saw a patient who will turn 100 this year, she's eager to get home to her sister, she's over a hundred years old herself (and in better shape), they live together, sharing one bed. The patient is worrying that her sister won't eat without her at home. Amazing.

Spent some time with the lady folding face clothes, I managed to ask her some questions.. she responded to a question in English too.... I really do love the elderly. Finally time for lunch, we shared a bottle of cidre and some pizzas for the interne leaving... The conversation went onto (in french), "wearing the mask in the cinema" and "spike" - from that I knew it was Notting Hill! We also watched a video of the doctors husband sailing, hours after his baby was born he sailed to Brazil - I imagine you have to be a pretty decent sailor to go to Brazil from France... Back to the ward, homemade 'gateaux', tasty sponge.

I followed the other ward this afternoon. Speaking to a new patient I had to explain I was English - she told me I spoke well and didn't have much of an accent, fantastic, especially after the interne asking this morning if I understood more now... (in a kind of good rhetorical way!) And it got better... the two doctors on the other ward said (and I wrote it down to remember), "tu parle beaucoup mieux en francais".... I speak a lot better in French. It felt so good. I watched as they aspirated a possibly septic knee, interesting exudate and I asked some questions.

Home at half four, shorts on, nipped to the post office (french okay, paid the 'parfait' change). I managed to find the park tourist information had recommended - it was lovely, long archways made by huge trees, botanic gardens with every rose imaginable. All the plants have a coloured label dependent on their properties, red is medicinal... I fancied a shop but I didn't manage to find a white top (saw a nice shirt... but it seems ridiculous to buy a shirt in this heat!). I caught a bit of the big band performing in the central square (trumpets at times went to heights not quite necessary) but overall fantastic. 

Got some serious glares from a man, I did not exactly steal his seat...anyway. Shop: red wine, baguette, goats cheese. More quiche.

Very different day and not for all of the best reasons. Today's made me think and feel, I feel much happier with my French again, I can see how you can progress with it. I still love working with the elderly I find them endearing, interesting and wise but a lot of people fear becoming old. Loosing control... the people I meet don't often mention it, but doing memory tests and not knowing the day or the year must get to you at some point.... Being elderly, parts of you become old and don't function as well, you do loose control. I'm not sure I'll ever know why some patients leave more of an impression upon you... And as much as I told myself the son has already lost his mother, his father was over ninety - they had to have expected it... they were father and son. We, the assortment of medical staff, family, an English student are linked by this patient and by the ending, a moment which seems very real in a job which can otherwise often feel like a 'game', prescribing 'electronic' prescriptions....