The Boston Globe recently ran a report on ventilator users who died because a vent alarm malfunctioned or was ignored. Ventilators typically alarm when a tube disconnects or if the airway is obstructed. But if nobody is around to hear the alarm, brain damage can quickly ensue.
I’m fortunate to have some very attentive nurses, but I’ve been in situations where my vent alarmed and nobody heard it. I can breathe on my own for a brief time, so that gives me a slight safety cushion, but it wouldn’t take me long to get in trouble. It’s something that worries me more than it once did. I don’t like being left alone for more than a few minutes and I’m increasingly hesitant to go to concerts and other events where noise might drown out any vent alarms. The caution that accompanies middle age is probably settling in.
I recognize that I’m very fortunate to have survived a quarter of a century on a vent. But when I joke with friends that I don’t want to die a stupid death, it’s tragedies like the ones described in the Globe article that give substance to my most basic fear of being alone when the end approaches.
