I would recommend this song while reading this post. I think it suits it pretty well.

Almost everyday (what do I say: Everyday!) I ask myself why we keep on doing all this... stuff..
Running around like madmen, working our ass off, bla,bla you've got to make a living.. This, that, all that stuff, that keeps us busy. I keep asking myself this question especially when it comes to my work.

What the fuck am I doing here?

A few days ago, something happened, that taught me why I keep on doing this job, even though I hate so many aspects of it.

A young man died at our intensive ward, only eight years older than me, looking like Frankenstein's child with tubes going in, tubes coming out, everything beeping and blinking and a whole lot of stuff going on to keep him alive.
He was not my patient actually but suddenly one of the Docs I like for being pretty reserved but cordially at the same, asked me to come with him, we entered the visitor room and he told the waiting relatives that the man died.

The wife broke down, a girl,  nearly my age. She kept on screaming and crying and I hold her like a child, with her head pressed to my chest, holding her hand.

I don't know how to act professional in situations like this, I never know. I do what I feel mostly.
I cried with her when she said: "Why didn't you jumpstart his heart?" "We did." "Why didn't you give him medicine?" "Look, we did everything that was possible, everything."

My mum had a very nice quote on her blog a few weeks ago, the translation is this:

"In fifty years, it will not matter how much money you've earned, how modern your flat was and what kind of car you've owned. But it could change the world, that we were important in the life of a child."

Maria Montessori

And I think for that reason I keep on doing this. The world will not stop turning because one man died, seven billion people won't even notice.
But maybe, it was important for his wife, that someone was there for her and hold her hand.


Matter of opinion

It's 6 am, we're getting the handover from the colleagues who had night shift, they talk about this and that: Patient X got along better, Patient Y needed more catecholamines... You get the idea.

One colleague talked about her patient, who got a very big surgery because of his cancer, they cut out a piece of his trachea (airway), did a big neck dissection, put parts of his pectoralis over the whole wound area. Really nothing you or me or anyone would want.
He was given artificial respiration, needed lots and lots of pain killer (Quelle surprise..) and my colleague said:

"As I know them (the docs), I think they are going to pull out the snorkel (intensive ward slang for endotracheal tube) as soon as possible, let him awake quick and try to tell him how beautiful life is."

Due to my lack of sleep, tiredness, overdose of caffeine and being overlain by the whole situation atm. I started laughing pretty hysterically.