When a Loved One is on a Ventilator

In any form of media now, it is common to hear talk of ventilators with the COVID-19 pandemic happening. I have heard stories of COVID-19 patients needing ventilators, hospitals demanding more ventilators, and the race to make more to fill the demand. Ventilators aren't some foreign concept to me, and the frequent mention of them is giving me unpleasant flashbacks.

Perhaps, you have never seen a person on a ventilator. Maybe everything you know about ventilators was observed on Grey's Anatomy. I can tell you that, from my family's experience, nothing can prepare you for the reality of it.

Twice my daughter, Jaycee, has needed ventilator support for a common cold virus called the rhinovirus. Jaycee is medically complex and her multitude of lung and heart problems often result in her needing support in the hospital for illlnesses that others can fight off at home.

Back in 2013, Jaycee was admitted to the ICU for breathing difficulties and pneumonia related to that pesky virus. I remember everything about the night she was placed on a ventilator. She was rocking back and forth in bed, hyped up from multiple breathing treatments, when I implored her to go to sleep after settling into our hospital room around midnight. A few hours later, everything changed suddenly, and I was regretting that my last conversation with Jaycee was begging her to go to sleep.

Jaycee went into septic shock and was later diagnosed with ARDS. She went from needing some oxygen upon admission to needing the ventilator quickly. For 3 weeks, I watched my 7-year-old child breathe with a ventilator.

In 2015, the rhinovirus again created havoc in her lungs and a less sudden need for a ventilator occurred. For a week or so, I sat beside my 9-year-old daughter listening to the hum of the machine breathe in and out for Jaycee.

I am not an expert on ventilators, but I will tell you about what I observed as the mother of a patient from these two events.

I was not prepared for everything that came with the ventilator. Jaycee was sedated while she was intubated. One reason for the sedation was that it prevented her from trying to pull out her breathing tube. With her sedated, we found ourselves in a weird mode where she was there but not really there. We talked to her, reassured her, played music, played her favorite tv shows, and held her hand when she was stable, but it was hard to know what she understood, processed, or heard. Tubes did all of the major work of her body while she slept. There were tubes and wires everywhere! It was a sight that was hard to take in and see.

Then there was the noise from the ventilator. It set me on edge all day and night long. The ventilator wasn't a quiet machine that's portrayed on television. It's noisy. It had a constant hum as it inhaled and exhaled for Jaycee. It alarmed frequently for a few different reasons. If she coughed, I jumped at the alarm it produced. Coughing also typically meant she needed to be suctioned. I hated the sound of the suction and the cough that happened as a result. It makes me cringe thinking about it now. Perhaps, it wouldn't bother anyone else, but it was something that I hated hearing and watching. 

The idea of Jaycee being on a ventilator was simply scary too. In other illnesses, Jaycee had been on oxygen, high-flow nasal cannula, and c-pap support for oxygenation needs. The ventilator is the final stop on the oxygen train. To me, it was worrisome that there was nothing left after the ventilator. In the 2013 event, Jaycee was on the highest support on the ventilator and not sustaining good numbers at different points. Other things were eventually tried (like positioning her on her belly, adding nitric oxide, etc.) which eventually led to improvements. It's scary to see someone struggle to breathe and know that there's nothing else that can be done. 

As for Jaycee, I don't know what the experience was like for her. With her limited communication skills, I don't know what she was feeling or thinking during those times or what she remembers. I know there were moments of discomfort and sadness judging from her body language and tears. 

For her sake, I hope she doesn't remember any of it. I hate to go back to those memories. They aren't pleasant. With all the talk of ventilators lately, I have found myself revisiting some of those memories. I feel for all the people needing them right now and their families. It's not an easy thing to live through. 

There are many opinions out there right now regarding what the public can do to stop the spread of COVID-19. I don't know what you should do, but I know without a doubt what I should do. I never want to see anyone I love on a ventilator again. Therefore, if there are some things I can do to put the odds in our favor, I will gladly do them. 

Be safe out there!