A Final Vigil

I was recently and unexpectedly admitted to the male medical ward of my local hospital late at night. I was conscious and aware of what was going on for me but completely indisposed. It felt as though I had been cast in the role of observer on an institution on which we deeply depend.

Across the ward the screens were drawn around a bed where a family sat at the side of their terminally ill father. There were occasional low murmurings but mostly silence as they awaited the inevitable.  I heard them share detail of his recent suffering and of the loss of their mother less than two weeks previously. This was a clear case of a broken hearted man, of late years, surrendering to death with dignity and courage. His passing, a few hours later, was a peaceful one and the family sat on in reverence to take their leave of him.

In close support, the medics had tended to the father over the previous week and switched from the role of preserving life to releasing it, as circumstances demanded. In the final hours hospital staff withdrew so that the family could gather to ease his passing. I have long believed that life’s important decisions are made with the heart rather than the head. In that hospital ward I felt this was institutionally formalised. The finest of high tech healthcare gave way to the loving support of immediate family at the time of this most important of transitions. Only some hours later did the hospital staff remove the body in preparation for their next arrival on the ward.

The hospital staff’s behaviour was exemplary in their care and compassion for a family thrust into change. In my case they acted professionally and speedily to protect me from disaster and a ‘life-changing event’. So, on the one hand they facilitated change and on the other they stopped it. Once again I’m reminded of the NHS’s strength in the treatment of acute illness and I’m very grateful for it. It’s only in their review of my situation that I hesitate to commend them.

Over the last four years I have brought about great improvements in my health through attention to nutrition and exercise. My learning has dispelled the previously unchallenged notion that the doctor is always right and that there is a pill for every ill. Today my attitudes toward healthcare are more In keeping with the coaching premise that the client explores the available options and retains responsibility for the outcomes. The doctors attending to me were able to provide the necessary assistance but were unable to assimilate information that conflicted with their drug centred paradigm of healthcare. Proactive nutritional intervention is not on their radar, nor were they curious as to how my situation might be addressed with a blend of natural and conventional approaches.

Perhaps I’m a little harsh. After all, I was admitted through the emergency room and their role is to deal quickly with whatever presents. In ER there is no time for procrastination or experimentation. Still, I remain hopeful that our treasured NHS, so skilled in judgement of when to bring change to others, will recognise the need to change itself and encourage participation from complementary medicine traditions with a view to true disease prevention. It is only through adaptation that the NHS can postpone a final vigil of its own.