That one.

I don't know about other nurses or health care workers, but for me, no matter how many code blue you have seen and been a part of, no matter of many patient's death you have witnessed, it doesn't get any easier when it is actually your own patient.

One who you have taken care of over a period of time. One who and whose family you have gotten to know--well enough that you know what makes them comfortable and what doesn't, what can alleviate the pain beside the pain meds and what cannot. One whose concerns you have fought for to the doctors, pharmacy, respiratory therapist--code status, pain meds, breathing treatment, you name it. One who and whose family have cheered whenever you walked into their room and they realized you were their nurse for that night.

That one.

One who has been transferred in and out of your unit for the past several weeks. One who, everytime they had left, you thought you'd never see them again because they were going to get better. Oh, how you thought wrong, because that one kept coming back. Each time with one more tube in place, one more complication surfacing, one more step forward but two more steps back, one more of their will to live given up. From independent to total care. From having a voice to none. From full code to DNR. From lively brown eyes to two pools of despair.

You know this is coming, but you'd like to think that it would happen slowly and eventually and peacefully, giving this family to grief and come to term together. But again, you thought wrong.

It doesn't get any easier for me when I discovered certain vital signs and critical lab values nearing the end of my shift this morning and I knew what kind of serious condition has befallen him. It doesn't get any easier for me to realize that that one is dying--soon and now--from all of these complications that seem to be one upping each other.

It doesn't get any easier for me to see the family members clutching each other, crying, knowing that they might lose him sooner than they would like to. It doesn't get any easier for me to not shed my own tears when I finally got home after a long emotionally spent night and crashed on my bed.

It doesn't get any easier for me when all I can think of and hope for now, is for them to still be there when I come back tonight.

It just doesn't get any easier for me when it's a patient near and dear to me who is dying.