I headed back to the ICU. They had dressed the girl, Miss White, in her street clothes and done her hair and makeup, but nothing could hide her severe pallor. She looked so peaceful.
Her “uncles” expectantly greeted me. They said in unison, “Welcome, Dr. Prince.” They were all inappropriately smiling. What was going on here? I went to declare her dead. I held a mirror up to her face, no signs of breathing, no lung sounds with auscultation. I laid my fingers gently across her throat. No pulse, but her skin was strangely pliant and warm.
I stared at her lovely face and the rest of the world suddenly shut itself off from me. I felt like singing. I could not stop myself … how unprofessional. But I bent over and gently kissed her goodbye. Suddenly there was music playing and—even more strangely—woodland animals frolicking at my feet. The uncles, who turned out to be roommates not relatives (had I known that I would never have stopped life support!), danced merrily. I looked back at her, and her eyes were open. She was smiling and gazing at her future husband, me.
Epilogue: The masticatory old lady eventually died from eating tainted horse meat. Mrs. Sprat improved with a low-fat diet. Mr. Wolfe died in a tragic logging accident, killed by the swing of an ax. The housing issues of the old lady with so many kids she did not know what to do was settled by the social worker, who became the septuplets’ godmother and found them housing in a refurbished, oversize shoe. As for Snow and me, we plan on living happily ever after. TH
Dr. Newman is the physician editor of The Hospitalist. He’s also consultant, Hospital Internal Medicine, and assistant professor of internal medicine and medical history, Mayo Clinic College of Medicine, Rochester, Minn.