Relax

I went to the dentist today. Going to the dentist doesn’t bother me. At times I have even found it to be relaxing. I’ve even almost fallen asleep.

Today was no different, really. I laid there, my mouth wide open. People had their hands and tools in my mouth.

Then I started thinking.

These thoughts were triggered by a patient I had recently who has some mental disabilities. We suctioned his mouth and explained why. “Oh” he had said, “like the dentist”. “Yes”, I smiled, “like the dentist”.

So, there I was, laying in that chair, with peoples hands in my mouth and all of a sudden I realized how little control I had over what was going on to my body, of what people were doing to me.

I started thinking about what it must be like to be intubated. It’s incredibly uncomfortable. When I intubate people I sedate and paralyze them; after all, I am shoving something into their lungs. We then tie their hands down with restraints, keeping them safe, we don’t want them to pull their tube out. Then they wake up. They’re confused, uncomfortable, scared, agitated. They start moving around and “bucking” the vent. They’re trying to take a huge breath of air through a tiny tube. Then we do what we always do, we get right in their face and tell them to “Just relax! Everything’s fine. Just relax!”.

Relax? Everything’s fine? My hands are tied down, there’s a tube in my lungs, I can’t breathe, I’m scared and you want me to relax?

I’ve never really been in the hospital. I’ve never been the patient. I don’t know what it’s like to sleep in a hospital bed or wear that ugly gown. I don’t know what it’s like to have a foley in my urethra or stickers on my chest or a probe on my finger. I don’t know what it’s like to be inubated. I don’t know what it’s like to have an arterial line placed, a central line placed, a PICC line. I don’t know what it’s like to experience the things that I do to people all the time. I don’t know what it’s like to lay in that bed.

But I know what it’s like to lay in that chair. And as I laid there today with those hands and tools in my mouth, swalloing with my mouth wide open, aware of my surooundings but not being involved with them, I started to think about what it must be like to be intubated.

Truth be told, I don’t want to know what it’s like to be intubated, to wear that gown, to lay in that bed. But I do want to relate to those patients, those people whose mouth my hands are in.