I turned the corner to walk into ICU, planning to meet with the family of Mr. L.  He had been found "down" earlier that day: unresponsive and barely breathing.  At 85, he was a resident of the skilled nursing floor (not quite acute care, not quite nursing home....), and had advanced directives stating he did not want to be on a ventilator or receive defibrillation.

He had however, stated that we SHOULD try to revive him with any other means available, and so he had been transferred to ICU for a trial of Bipap: a non invasive-but still uncomfortable- form of ventilation support.

It had been successful to the point that he had woken up, and was able to state in no uncertain terms, that that WASN'T to be tried again! And if that meant he would die, so be it. His wife had told me earlier that when she visited him that morning, he had said his goodbyes......

My heels clipped (I can see my former staff nodding their heads.....) down the hall, but I stopped in my tracks as I approched the ICU door, planning to talk to the patient and his wife about the benefits of continuing the bipap.  There, a large family was gathered in a circle, holding hands, and reciting the Lord's Prayer..."thy will be done......"

I tiptoed past them, chastizing myself for both my loud heel-clicking, and my "doctorly" arrogance,  having been not-so-subtly reminded that it was not MY will, but God's whose would be done in the case of Mr. L.