A stretcher in front of the ma – Nurse Pablo Iñárritu

Article published at: Jan 22, 2025
All Stories from medical staff

I'm Pablo, a palliative care nurse. I work on the coast of Nayarit, accompanying patients who no longer want to die surrounded by tubes and monitors. I care for those who choose to pass away at home. Or on their beach.

Maria was 63 years old. Ovarian cancer, terminal stage. She decided not to return to the hospital. “If I die, let it be smelling the sea,” she said the first time I visited her. She asked me for something I initially thought impossible: one last afternoon by the ocean.

With the help of volunteers and his family, we arranged a discreet transfer. In a pickup truck, with portable oxygen and IV drips hanging from makeshift hooks, we set up his stretcher in front of the beach, under a palapa.

She barely spoke, but asked me to play bolero music. I took her hand, moistened her lips, and adjusted the oxygen flow every 10 minutes. She breathed deeply, as if she wanted to take all that salty air with her.

At dusk, he stopped breathing.

His daughter hugged me:
“Thank you for allowing him to say goodbye the way he wanted. He passed away peacefully.”

That night I calmly cleaned the equipment, knowing that we had fulfilled a wish that no medicine could offer.

I learned that in some cases, dignity at the end of life is the most profound act of care we can offer. Fulfilling Maria's wish not only eased her physical pain but also restored her sense of control and peace as she said goodbye. This human support transcends any medicine; it is the true heart of my work.

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