Guest post from Adrienne - she spent the last month in the intensive care unit at the University of Michigan hospital. This is her story:

Dreading this month since the beginning of third year, embarking into the 20 bed unit on the west side of University Hospital. Perfectly placed to get rays of sunshine through the window, glancing off the face of a teenager dying too young. Mom standing at the end of the bed, gripping her sons ankles as he gasped his last breath. Tears of joy and hurt, hurt for a family that lost their son too soon to the throws cancer. Grandfather emerging from the room with a smile on his face, gripping our hands and thanking us for our hard work. Leaving the hospital to eat and drink for him as he no longer could. As his mother asked, we will never forget.

Pronouncing one young woman in the sterile environment of the operating room to the sounds of Aaliyah and Brandy. Stroking her hair, wiping her tears as she slipped into the abyss. At the words of my pronunciation of death, surgeons rushed in - hurrying to use her organs to save and touch the lives of seventy others.  Another pronunciation in the operating room, listening to Bruce Springsteen and comforting family of a adopted child who was blind and deaf and gave up the ultimate sacrifice to save others.

Dying alone, family on the way…donut burger. Playing music to easy the transition. Slipping into the sounds of “Spirit in the Sky.” A newly diagnosed HIV patient with a life altering brain tumor. Consuming his ability to use the right side of his body. A young vibrant man condensed to a life form subsisting, waiting, anxiously for life prolonging chemotherapy. A mother who lost her partner in life only months ago, now facing a long road ahead for her son who may not make it to thirty.

Family meeting after family meeting, discussing bad news with parents, children, grandparents, sisters, brothers, friends, nieces? Navigating the waters of designated power of attorney, hurt children and a brother who is “going to sue your ass.” Allowing a man to pass away who’s body was wracked with infection, showering through his body with every run of dialysis.

Then there were the successes.  Listening to “Baby Beluga” while two saints watched over their man child in his wheel chair after treatment of his infected lungs.  Discussing Joni Mitchell, Janis Joplin, Bob Dylan and other folk artists. Watching them dress their son in a coat and hat and wheel him to the car, ready to go home to face another challenge outside the confines of the hospital. Rapping to “Roll Out” with a 24 year old man, intubated but still with it enough to shake it like it’s hot.  Eating a brownie from Einstein’s with a borrowed carton of milk, a gift from a patient’s father.  Watching a young woman with my least favorite words “stage IV cancer” leading a parade of nurses and respiratory therapists down the hall as she walks - walks to face another day to spend time with her loving family.

This has been a month of ups and downs.  Missing the family connections and working with talented nursing staff, teaching and helping patients transition from this life to another or from this life in the hospital to outside the walls of the critical care unit.