When I had just woken up, I happened to overhear a conversation between my wife and the head doctor of the intensive care unit. I slept a lot because it was very exhausting to keep my eyes open for even a few hours. Not to mention the psychological strain. As soon as the massive problems and doubts, the hopelessness and the panic hit me, after I spent the first few seconds of waking up in sleepy harmony, not knowing for a moment where I was and what had happened, the energy I had just accumulated in my sleep abruptly vanished.
At first, I didn't realize what the two voices right behind my door were talking about. It was only when I heard my wife crying softly – they both thought I was still asleep, which is why they were talking in hushed tones – that my attention suddenly shifted to the conversation behind the thick door. I strained to understand what the conversation was about, as my wife's crying triggered a protective reflex in me and I wanted to ease her pain. But to do that, I needed to know what was causing her pain.
After a few minutes and a few paragraphs, it became clear to me. It was about me and my state of health. The doctor had just revealed to her that my vital signs had deteriorated. They would of course do everything in their power to achieve the impossible or at least bring about the best possible outcome in this situation, but one should prepare the relatives for a last visit and slowly say goodbye.
My wife's suppressed sobs and cries cut through the bedroom door and reached my ears like a scream for help. She wanted to be held in my arms and mourn her probable impending loss. I would rather have comforted her than being isolated in my cocoon and being forced to deal with my own fate. Was this really going to be the end for me? Was there no hope? Although the doctor wrapped his words in absorbent cotton, his message was clear. The guidelines forbade him to take the hope away from the relatives. And yet the radicalism behind the absorbent cotton was remarkably clear: I had no chance of surviving.