Time of Death This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

January 15, 2009
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The first death on your watch isn’t even your fault. You’re just one of the many interns who rush to the bedside when the code is called, peering at the doctors crowding around. As the patient gasps and chokes, you too gasp and choke as each electric shock blasts through the body. The doctors are grim-faced but determined; you hopelessly wonder why they even bother. Again and again the voltage is cranked up, but thunderbolts can only do so much.

The doctor holding the paddles slowly turns away from the flaccid flesh and another quietly asks, “Time of death?” You back away, feeling as if the defibrillator was really meant for you as your heart pounds out its own furious pace. A devastated mother takes your wrist. “Time of death?” she whispers, mis­taking you for a doctor, someone who tried his best to resuscitate her darling daughter, someone who knew what he was doing, someone with guts enough to challenge death. Not a first-year intern who never could remember which number was the systolic for blood pressure, not someone who didn’t even dare to take blood sugar levels.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” you blurt. “You’ll be able to talk to the doctors inside …,” you mumble, patting the trembling hand. She bites her lip and nods, letting go of the scrubs that you shouldn’t be wearing, the scrubs reserved for those who can save lives, not for those who don’t even know how to gently break death to a loved one.

The third death is similar, only this time you’ve been dragged along for scut work. You’re the one ramming your hands into the sternum, trying to force the fluttering heartbeat into your rhythm. You’re the one leaping out of the way of the defib paddles, jumping back to start compressions again. The patient bottoms out, but after the paddles thunder a third time, you can feel the thump of the heart, tangoing with yours as you collapse against a chair, arms quivering with strain. You shudder with relief. You brought him back. You saved him. You.

The eighteen death is the hardest. That little baby in neo-natal care should never have been forced to live on machines. Each breath is a struggle, and the medications are flowing in a poisonous concentration for such a small body, yet the parents insist on continuing the farce of life. They’re unwilling to bear any grief while their baby boy wheezes and thrashes weakly, seeking comfort but receiving only the hard embrace of a hospital cradle and the groan of machines.

The mother shrieks, “He’s blue! Do something!” After you reach the crib and despair at the readouts, you motion the code team away and beckon to the mother and father.

“The best thing for him is to take him off the machines,” you say.

The dad glares. “You want to kill him.”

They don’t understand the torture they have put him through. “If he even survives a year, he will be severely physically and mentally disabled. For life,” I persist.

The mother moans, “He’s blue! I don’t care. Just save him! Now!”

You nod at the code team, maneuvering yourselves around the tiny crib and pulling off the oxygen mask, trying to fit your large palms against the flimsy baby with his face scrunched up in a silent wail. The heart drugs aren’t having any effect due to the amount of medication already flowing through his body.

“Use the shocker!” the mother wails.

“We can’t!” you snarl, trying to give compressions to a weak chest and an even weaker malformed heart. “Your baby is too small and his heart is deformed! If we do, we’ll kill him!”

The code leader shakes his head. “Time of death ….”


“3:36 p.m.”

The thirty-third death is the best death. You’re the one in charge. If a code is called, you will wield the paddles, call out “Clear!” You have the final say on time of death if it occurs. You won’t let those words pass your lips.

But she smiles at you through her pure white hair. “I’m ready to leave. Are you ready to let me go?”

You sob, throw down the clipboard. “No, Mom! I don’t want you to.”

She still wears the tender smile of years past as her body wastes away and shrivels to a mere fraction of her vitality. “But it’s necessary. I need you to. And you know it.”

“Mom ….”

And she brushes her hand against yours, squeezing it once before closing her eyes. “You’re ready.”

You kiss her cooling cheek then note: “Time of death: 9:12 a.m., Thursday, April 24 ….”

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.

Join the Discussion

This article has 295 comments. Post your own now!

ItzYaGirl22 said...
Apr. 5, 2012 at 6:55 pm

Truly amazing! You have a gift. Makes me want to become an avid reader all over again...


sunset said...
Apr. 5, 2012 at 12:42 pm
i thought i'd never finish that. i nearly cried. it felt as if i was right there. i even was able to imagine my own mother in that position.
Dynamo This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Apr. 5, 2012 at 9:12 am
t was just amazing. i intend to become a doctor myself and the fountain of ebullition that gushes out afer each death is undeniable
MorgDogs said...
Apr. 2, 2012 at 9:16 pm
This is amazing. It made me feel just as I was there, feeling the pain of each burdon. You have a gift.
FULLSTOP said...
Mar. 21, 2012 at 9:40 am
wow. i think that it was a good plot line and the way that you made the intern not be able to do anything when they wanted to and have to do something whenthey didn't want to. please can you check out some of my work? xx and correct me if i am wrong in my comment
writer3499 said...
Mar. 11, 2012 at 1:05 pm
This is amazing! Best short story I have read...great job. I almost cried!!!!
aem312 said...
Feb. 18, 2012 at 3:55 pm
this was so incredibly sad but it was beautiful. written very well and a great storyline.
Just.wanna.be.Me said...
Feb. 18, 2012 at 7:31 am
this was one of the saddest stories i've ever read in my life. It's so amazingly written, i want to go back and read it again! Keep up the amazing work! And congrats to getting published! you deserve it!
MistrBrighterside said...
Feb. 10, 2012 at 8:32 am
Beautifully written. So much emotion within each 'Time of Death' moment.
Kaffeine said...
Feb. 5, 2012 at 4:54 pm
This really touched me. I actually shivered when I read it! Amazing story.
Bandana56 said...
Jan. 27, 2012 at 8:57 pm
jeez, that was REALLY good. The baby part made me so sad, you've got some real talent.
Katsview This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. replied...
Feb. 6, 2012 at 8:11 pm
Yeah. And I know what that's like, as i had to live 5 months in the hospital after i was born til i was allowed to get out- it could've turned out that way . . . Wow!
Nothing_Is_Real said...
Jan. 27, 2012 at 8:34 pm
This is amazing imagery. I really felt like I was there, time of death. Good job, is all else I have to say.
Bballstar98 said...
Jan. 27, 2012 at 8:14 pm
Wow that was so emotional. That's one of the reasons why I will NEVER be a doctor. Well written!
Alyssa M. said...
Jan. 27, 2012 at 4:35 pm
That was so emotional! I truely felt like I was the one there going through it. WOW!
kitcattt This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Jan. 27, 2012 at 10:56 am
that was truly lovely:)
emmabergman said...
Jan. 8, 2012 at 9:17 pm
Wow..This piece is truly inspiring. As I read I felt like I was right there beside you finding myself in those painstakingly confusing situations. I wondered what I would have done if I was in that situation. Your article brought tears to my eyes. Great job!
emmabergman replied...
Jan. 8, 2012 at 9:19 pm
Please check out my work:)
M-star said...
Jan. 5, 2012 at 10:49 pm
I really enjoyed reading this! I like that it makes the reader feel like they were actually there! Awesome job!
Ella1 said...
Jan. 5, 2012 at 7:07 pm
Wow this was amazing and you put so much emotion into it
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