Sayed Tabatabai, MD

My mother grew up in Nigeria, and many of her fondest memories are of her childhood. This broke her heart, as it breaks mine. In solidarity with the Nigerian people in their fight against police brutality, injustice, and corruption. Prayers for safety, and change. #endsarshttps://twitter.com/ajplus/status/1318880974063751169 …

Time passes. Twenty years. The nurse was young back then, but now she is a seasoned veteran. And now she holds a phone up, so that a family can look upon their dying loved one from afar. And she remembers sadly what it used to be like, before, where all roads meet.

The nurse sees everything. Bearing witness. She stands with one foot in each world, that of the beloved and that of the patient. Perhaps more than anyone else on the healthcare team, she understands what has truly happened here. She is intimately familiar with this story. 14/

This is a time for tears, and that’s okay. This is a time for grief, and for the gentle wisdom that comes from letting go. As she dies, and her delicate breaths finally stop, her small hands are held in her husband’s. He whispers a promise to be with her again, someday. 13/

There is a quiet calm that descends when the final decision has been made. When there’s nothing left to do, but wait. And reflect. The family has gathered, to wish a fond farewell at the end of one journey and the beginning of another. Where all roads meet, then diverge. 12/

The stories are a window, and through them, the nurse begins to hear a voice from the past: her patient’s voice. As she is mechanically ventilated, she speaks. As she lies motionless, she stands tall. As she is dying, she comes to vivid life. The nurse fights back tears. 11/

“Did you know she rode horses as a young girl and teenager?” “WHAT?!” “Yes! She was a free spirit back then. I suppose she always was. It never left her. The way her eyes would sparkle when she set her mind to something.” “Strongest person I ever knew.” “Amen.” 10/

“She was the best cook, I swear, I’ll never forget her recipe for eggplant.” “And the kababs?” “Good Lord the kababs!” “Heavenly!” “Exquisite!” More smiles, murmurs of agreement. The nurse smiles softly, wondering what delicacies those pale fragile hands had once made. 9/

They share remembrances. Laughter mingles with tears. Recollections of kindness. “She used to take care of homeless people near her house. Nobody knew, she never told a soul. When she got hospitalized, all these people showed up asking if she was okay.” 8/

Some are in town. Some have driven a few hours. Some have flown in from across the country. Some have flown in from across the world. A great love once existed here, and it exists still. Breathing life into the bonds between them. Bringing them together. Stories. 7/

The nurse listens, as she stands by the bedside. Over time, she has learned who all these family members are. The elderly husband and daughters who have been at the bedside from the beginning. Sons, nieces, nephews, cousins, grandchildren. Family trickle in. 6/

But sometimes, no matter how much we care, there are some things we cannot change. Slowly, Death has made its way towards the room in the corner of the ICU. Now all the family are arriving to say goodbye. And something magical begins to happen. Stories begin to be shared. 5/

For most of her stay, the elderly woman has been cared for by the same nurse. As with all her patients, the nurse has done her best to get to know the elderly woman. She has cared for her with great skill and knowledge, attentively and compassionately. She has cared deeply. 4/

We often think of illness as a battle, with the victors and the vanquished. Except that’s never really true. In the end, there are no victors. We say, “Be strong!” But there is no strength or weakness here. There is only the journey. And all journeys must eventually end. 3/

The room is in a corner of the ICU, and for the past week it has seen a struggle unfold. An elderly woman lies in her bed, connected to a ventilator and an intricate web of intravenous drips. She is frail, emaciated, her body ravaged by cancer. Mercifully, she is comatose. 2/

(CW: cancer, and death in a hospital. This thread is based on something that happened 20 years ago, as told to me by people who were there.) There is a quiet calm that descends when the final decision has been made. When there’s nothing left to do, but wait. And reflect. 1/

When those in power are accountable to no one, and do not hold themselves accountable, history has shown that there is only ever one inevitable outcome. Suffering.

“...For this world also which seems to us a thing of stone and flower and blood is not a thing at all but is a tale...” - Cormac McCarthy, “The Crossing.” “And at the instant he knew, he ceased to know.” - Jack London, “The God Of His Fathers.” #amwriting #threadtomorrow

Tabatabai 2020 - It’s not pheo.https://twitter.com/nickmurftweets/status/1318461370476777472 …