The Art of Letting Go

03.00 am, almost dawn. It was my first time facing death. Many stories about doctors who resuscitate their near-dead patients and managed to bring them back to life. But I didn't. It was my first time performing resuscitation on real patient but I didn't succeed.

Previously, a senior of mine calmly informed the family about the patient's worsening condition. That we had given all our best, all the medication and medical procedures we had known to save the patient's life. And after she had gone, it was my senior who calmly explain about the possible cause of death, about his deep condolences to the family, and that he will be there if any of the family need help on anything regarding the late patient. I was near speechless. Maybe it was my emotion, I was overwhelmed by disappointment and grief. It was more than a death to me.



I talked to the patient in less than a day before she passed away. On minutes before, she said something about orchids and jasmine flower to his husband. He thought she was just aimlessly talking, but perhaps that was her last wish, flowers. The husband ask her to be relax, to clear her mind and focus on getting well. After that, he went out for a couple of minutes to take the lab result. On that very moment, when the husband wasn't near, she passed away. I keep on wondering, maybe he shouldn't have left that moment and stay for another hour or two. Some may would call it fate. But I will never be able to understand the mistery of fate.

There was an absolute grief, it was clearly a big loss for the family. But also for me. In the end, it touched me that despite of our limitations as human, the husband said "Thank you, Doc." I have got several thank you's from the patients who felt better, who got well and went home in the end. But this family, thanked me for giving all the best that I can, despite the failure to bring a life back. It was exactly the same words, but it sounds really different for me.

Later on, two hours later, I asked my senior about how he could be so calm when death was so near. He told me that a doctor should have a brilliant mind, skillful hand, and calm performance. "Let us do our best", he said, "And let the patients know that you do."
It was crucial to build communication and trust between a doctor, the patient, and the family from the very beginning.

I realize, when I decided to enter medical school, I will face not only sickness and all its manifests, but also death. And it seems that the more beginner a medical care worker is, the more vulnerable he/she will be to the complexity of emotions involved. But even when the death is clearly inevitable, could I just shrug off my shoulder and take it simply just as part of the nature? I'll call it the art of letting go, and clearly that is something I need to learn more.