Stomach churning, sweat dripping down back between shoulder blades. Nausea. Shaking extremities. Unable to focus. Heart racing. I stumble through sentences explaining the dire situation to his wife. I forget his name but I carry on regardless breaking bad news. The woman weeps as realisation of seeking hope fades and her husband will die soon. What do I say to this poor woman? This is my third conversation of this nature today and my compassion has faded like the petals of a daffodil past it’s prime. I know that in an hour or so his breathing will get faster until he has a respiratory arrest. His wife, the woman my words had not consoled will shout for help but I am unable to help. I have no other obligation other than making him pain free. Do not resuscitate she agreed. After a painful discussion with a twitchy junior doctor. A worse conversationalist than myself and a blunt instrument when a more intricate and gentle language would have helped. How do I know if he is pain free? He cannot speak. He is basically unconscious. I just give the prescribed medication for a dying person after a doctor has googled the correct guidelines or pathway to follow. I have evolved into a robotic simulation of myself. I go through the motions but I am detached from reality. I say motions as I am void of emotions. A mask and visor obscures my face like a superhero. Am I a hero? I feel it would be more heroic to give up, however, the Thursday clap would be such a waste of energy. Who would devour the free food. Stuffing my face to suppress the sadness and entrapment this viral pandemic has created....I am so sick of wrapping bodies.