I'll be watching you.
To see whether you're actually dead, that is.
I had the honor and privilege of holding a patient's hand while he passed. His family was with him and were bawling. Finally his wife asks, "Is he...dead?"
Eyes open. Pupils fixed. No visible breaths. Palpating his wrist...is that a pulse?! Shit! Is he or isn't he?!
Where's my stethoscope?! Where it always is, around my neck. Duh. Listening...listening...listening...
You don't know how long a minute really is. You really just don't know...
I hear nothing. Yes, he really is most sincerely dead. I page the doctor and go back to my computer, mentally going over the next steps in this whole process.
About an hour or so later, the charge nurse and I are performing post-mortem care.
P. is trying to grow a pair, because she's always been reluctant to do this very important task on our unit.
As we are carefully washing our deceased patient (and I have it on good authority that I'm NOT WEIRD for talking to the ones who have passed, so there!) I notice a flicker of movement...
P. jumps back with a squawk and I admit, a tiny noise might have escaped my throat.
I belatedly realize that the fancy-schmancy pressure-redistributing mattress doesn't give a flying fuck whether the body that's lying on it is alive or dead, it keeps on with its task of preventing pressure ulcers...by systematically deflating and inflating sections of itself, causing a rippling movement not unlike that of a water bed...incidentally and quite freakishly causing movement to our patient.
P., once she's come down off the ceiling and caught her breath, states, "That's the freakiest thing I've ever seen in my LIFE!"
Oh, Honey...you may have more experience as a nurse than I, but you ain't seen nuthin' yet!