Remo Aguilar“Rest in peace Samantha. I will always remember you.”
3A. Window side. That was supposed to be my seat on the plane. Seeing a dad comforting a special kid on his lap on seat 3b and 3C (near aisle), I volunteered to sit on the 3c so that the kid will not be bothered by aisle passers by. Her dad started a pleasant conversation with me – our common medical background (he is a retired med tech), his wife ( originally from my place and was a classmate of my elder sister ) to Samantha’s condition.
Samantha has demyelinating disease and cardiomyopathy diagnosed 11 years ago. With muscular dystrophy and muscle wasting, Samantha couldn’t control her head and is dependent on her parents and siblings for her basic needs. She’s been on and off medical complications that her parents had a “mini ICU” in her room. The day prior this flight, Samantha had difficulty breathing, prompting her dad to cut short their visit and boarded the earliest flight back home to Davao. Samantha’s family and her “life support” including her doctor is in Davao. Samantha’s dad knew the risk of flying Samantha in that state given they were in the same predicament several times before. The family also knew and has accepted Samantha’s fate even before, despite the numerous exhaustive struggle to fight the poor prognosis of children affected by this rare disease. It’s only a matter of time.
That time was a little about over 30 minutes after I sat beside her. She was initially responsive to her dad’s assurances, nodding and giving out quaint sounds while her dad hand comb her hair. Later I noted Samantha’s quick but labored breathing. I checked her extremities, it is cold and cyanosis was setting in. This went on for some 20 minutes then she gasped for one big breath, never closing her eyes, staring on us both, quietly and without noise, then she stopped breathing.
After quickly introducing myself as a physician, I asked the stewardess for the plane’s on board medical oxygen. I immediately hooked Samantha to oxygen via facemask.Samantha wasn’t breathing. I auscultated her chest and checked her pupils. No heart rate. Fixed, dilated pupils. Her eyes was still open as if staring on me. “No heroics doc” her dad told me. “Let’s not prolong Samantha’s agony.” I continued giving medical oxygen and asked for an ambulance on the ground ready anyway. Just in case. Or maybe.
9:56 AM on board flight 5J348.
I will not forget this day. I have seen dying people and have tried reviving most. Some lived, others died. I held Samantha hands tightly until we transferred her to a stretcher then to an ambulance. Just in case… Rest in peace, angel. Thank you for choosing me to watch over you on your last moments. Be our angel. Rest now.
(My condolences to the bereaved family. To Samantha’s mom, thank you also for allowing me to post this publicly )
