
I am not exactly sure of what prompted me to do it, but I began keepÂing a tally of all the proÂnounceÂments I have done. A pronouncement is that act in which a doctor officially declares a person to be dead. Some deaths are theatric specÂtacÂles involving beepÂing monÂiÂtors, electric shocks, and crackÂing chest carÂtiÂlage. These tend to be chaotic, gritty, and conclusive as in the TV shows, sometimes ending with a disÂtraught physician intoning, “Time of death. . . .â€
However, most proÂnounceÂments done in the hospital are remarkÂably simple and imperÂsonal. Because we attach so much meaning to death and have sequestered it far from the public eye, we are conditioned to believe that its act must be as spectacular and monumental as its significance. But what usuÂally hapÂpens is that the perÂson will merely expire, often with nothing more than a quiet, gaspÂing sigh. It is usually expected but spontaneous, with a somber but quiet family waiting aimlessly for the event to occur. SomeÂtimes hosÂpice arrangeÂments are made for the patient to go home to die, surÂrounded by famÂily and friends. SomeÂtimes a volunÂteer in the hosÂpiÂtal will keep a vigil of sorts, sitÂting in a chair while readÂing a book or watchÂing TV as he or she does the job of those who have no family, waiting to fulÂfill the simple courtesy of not letting anyÂone die alone. SomeÂtimes a nurse will make the rounds and disÂcover that the patient has passed in the few brief hours in between visits. Regardless, those final moments occur at any hour and in any floor of a large hosÂpiÂtal like mine. In every case, whenÂever the death is disÂcovÂered, a page is sent to whichever resÂiÂdent is on call to stop by and make the offiÂcial proÂnounceÂment. [Read more…] about Rituals of Annotation