I’m afraid, like anyone. But I don’t want this feeling to win, because death within is worse than that of the body. So, I struggle and I don’t even feel tired anymore, because at this moment my job makes sense more than ever. I am always in my ward in my thoughts, close to my patients. Day and night. I ask myself what I can do, or how I can do it better.
Before I put them to sleep and intubate them, I have them make a phone call to a relative. A greeting, to tell each other that all will go well. But it’s not so. And so it happens that the relatives, in tears, ask us to be close to their family member, to caress them, and to tell them—even if they cannot hear us—that they loved them, that they will miss them. This is the final greeting, which we bring every day.