Taras Skripchenko was a living part of American history.
Taras wanted to start over, to rewrite the opening chapters of his life.
Taras was too confused to have a lucid conversation and lacked family members to guide his decision making, so his medical plan was the default approach
Taras was dying.
Taras was stabilized.
Taras 's ribcage had become a pin cushion from all my attempts.
Taras 's care was now being managed by the ICU team, so Edward and I headed back to the cafeteria to grab some coffee.
Taras 's heart had stopped three more times and miraculously, the ICU team had brought him back each time.
Taras died 48 hours after that initial code blue.
Taras Skripchenko died 15 years ago.
Unfortunately for Taras , a lot of the detritus from smashing coal dug its way deep into the lining of his lungs, plugging the airways.
Edward and I bundled Taras and his machines onto a gurney and navigated the labyrinth of hallways to the elevator.
I pierced Taras 's skin just below the sternum and carefully pushed the needle through the skin, simultaneously pulling back on the syringe,
My clasped hands pressed hard against Taras 's frail chest and all I could here and feel were the cracking of his ribs
I searched for a pulse on Taras 's neck.
Despite my efforts to come up with a plan for Taras , I knew that his cancer surely had a plan of its own.
I told the resident to keep a close watch on Taras Skripchenko.
Taras 's once flailing heart could beat again.
As I later found out, Taras was an ethnic Ukrainian who had emigrated to the United States from the Soviet Union as an adolescent.
A grand total of eight plastic intrusions, Taras was fixed.
Now who on Taras are you?
But as far as the medical team was concerned, Taras was a full code.
We finally arrived, out of breath, at Taras 's room.
As the doors closed, I kept my hand on Taras 's carotid artery, making sure to feel for a pulse until I realized he no longer had one.
Over the next two days, Edward and I followed Taras every few hours in the ICU.
Edward stood at the foot of the bed and took charge, directing what was likely to be Taras 's passage from life.
Today I am a full fledged medical doctor, a senior physician, and teacher of others, yet I still think about Taras each time I meet a new patient.
One was Taras Protsyuk.