The Sound of Silence
I have attended to many deaths in my short career as a nurse. I guess that is the
hardest part of geriatric nursing. I remember one man in particular, Joe*.
He was a veteran of World War II, and a retired mechanic. He was nearly 90 when I
met him. His beloved wife of 45 years, Sara, had died only months earlier. He was
diagnosed with Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease (COPD). In this
showed first 75 words of 1074 total
showed last 75 words of 1074 total
Upon returning, everyone left
the room except Jack. As I injected the morphine, Joe closed his eyes and squeezed his
son's hand. I stoked Joe's hair briefly, kissed his forehead and left. Minutes later, Jack
appeared in the doorway, his eyes filled with tears as huged his son. I went back into
Joe's room. Placing my stethoscope on his chest, I heared a sound that will ring in my
ears forever, the sound of silence.