Then, as I was seeing another patient, I heard a scream come from his room. I went and looked through the glass window, and watched as he grabbed a gun from his wife's purse, put the gun in his mouth, and shot himself. Turns out his wife was a police officer. She was off-duty. She forgot that she had her revolver in her purse. When she opened the purse to get a tissue, he saw the gun and on impulse, took the gun.
It was the first time I'd ever seen a gun fired in person. After he fired the gun, I opened the door and looked to see where the gun was. I couldn't see it. I closed the door to watch his wife. She didn't seem to have the gun. So I opened the door and took the wife out of the room. I saw the gun on the floor and kicked it out of the way.
I immobilized his spine, put a breathing pipe in and resuscitated him. It turns out that he did not aim the gun upward which would have shattered his brain and killed him instantly. He had shot a fairly high-powered weapon directly into his cervical spine, completely transecting his cervical spine. There was no exit wound.
The man was successfully resuscitated and we sent him to a major trauma center, and now he's a quadriplegic.
But the most difficult part about this experience for me was remembering that I felt relief. As I saw the gun, my very first thought was, 'I have a psychotic patient with a gun, roughly 6 to 8 feet away from me.' When he pushed the gun into his own mouth, I thought, 'At least he's not going to shoot his wife or me. Or a full emergency room of patients and staff.'
I think this was probably the least of the potential evils that could have occurred that night, but it doesn't minimize how awful it was. And how awful it was to be the patient's doctor and feel relief that he had chosen to shoot himself.
Dr. Jeffrey Hersh is a clinical assistant professor of Emergency Medicine at Tufts University and an attending physician of Emergency Medicine at Brigham and Women's/Faulkner Hospitals.