Joe McAdory: ICU visit puts things into perspective

He lay still in his hospital bed, moaned quietly and stared off into what appeared to be his own little imaginary world. Tubes draped from his nostrils. An oxygen mask covered his face. Wires were attached to his chest. He had no legs and little, if any, movement at all. He appeared to have no hope, no thoughts, no feelings and no future.

But he was alive.

I didn’t catch his name. But for days this man, who couldn’t be much older than 30, kept a room inside the intensive care unit at a hospital far, far away. The television remained on in his tiny room, possibly more for friends and family than for himself. Doctors and nurses worked diligently to keep him clean, keep him fed and keep him alive.

She lay still in her hospital bed, moaned quietly and stared off into what appeared to be her own little imaginary world. Tubes draped from her nostrils. An oxygen mask covered her face. Wires were attached to her chest. Her heart rate raced as she continued to move her head and eagerly watched any passersby. She wanted their attention, though her words were unintelligible.

Maybe she wanted a nurse. Maybe she needed help. Maybe she just wanted company. The walls of a hospital room grow lonely night after night when you have no loved ones.

She didn’t lie still in her hospital bed, talked openly to anyone and anything and turned absolute reality into her little imaginary world. Tubes draped from her nostrils. An oxygen mask did not cover her face.

She propped up in her bed, looked at me square in the eye, called me “doctor” and repeatedly asked when the CAT scan was. I told her I didn’t know and might need one myself. She pointed at the wall and said, “That’s my son.” It was clear her stable mind was no longer with her, though it was obvious she was a friendly woman.

Then she made sure I, being her imaginary ICU doctor, knew she would be refusing further medication. At this point, I couldn’t help it and blurted, “That’s right, ma’am, say no to drugs.”

The ICU ... this is a place where people are nursed back to health. This is a place where people who have little chance hang on to whatever hope they have. This is a place where family members cling to those final moments.

This is a place where people put their trust into those who provide care, doctors and nurses who become patients’ personal heroes.

This is a place of miracles, and is a place of goodbye.

I can’t help but remember the hopelessness in the faces of some. Their minds may appear to be in an altered state, but you never really know what’s going on inside. They have fears and dreams just like the rest of us. They have families and histories just like the rest of us.

Many will resume normal lives. Some will not.

They deserve our attention.

They deserve our prayers.

Joe McAdory is editorial page editor for the Opelika-Auburn News. He can be reached at 737-2549 or jmcadory@oanow.com