"C'mon team! Next patient is Mr. V! Gather around. Oh! Notice his breathing, a Cheyne-Stokes pattern. And he is also a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate)! He is probably about to die."
The Cheyne-Stokes pattern of breathing is the medical term named after the people that described what is otherwise known as the death rattle. Basically, your respiratory center slowly shuts down, and doesn't respond well to oxygen and carbon dioxide in your body. Mixed signals get sent. You spend periods of time not breathing, also called apnea, and then when you hit a dangerously low level of oxygen, you breathe really fast (tachypnea) to catch up. The slow/apnea/fast pattern is periodic and regular, but the intervals lengthen, until it stops altogether. As the heart shuts down, blood stops circulating, which is why dying people will become cool and have blue lips and mottled extremities.
So we all gathered around his bed; residents, nurses, medical students, and respiratory therapists. It was very cramped in the small, curtained-off makeshift room in the ICU. The patient was probably in his late 60's, but he looked much older. He was lying in bed, propped up on pillows; cachectic, jaundiced, and laboring for every breath.
The peppy pulmonologist whispered conspiratorially.
"Do you see his breathing pattern? Memorize it! It is end-of-life."
Throughout my third year, I saw many patients near the end of life. This was my first. In the hospital, a lot of dying patients garner the complete attention of the medical team; crash carts, chaos, drugs in syringes trying to reset the heart back to normal rhythm. This man was different; he would die with no interruptions.
So I watched, and I didn't. I wondered where his family and friends were. I looked at his clubbed fingers, and tried to guess at his cause of death. I looked around at everyone else in the room, trying to find physical evidence indicating whether or not they were as uncomfortable as I was. Finally, I looked at him, and studied his breathing pattern. I waited for some sort of metaphysical sign to appear when he left this world for whatever came next.
Death happened. While we were all standing there, watching. One minute he was struggling for breath, and the next he was not.
"Okay! Nurse, will you call the morgue? C'mon team, let's go see Mr. W!"
We shuffled out slowly, bumping into each other, and finished rounding.