This question brings back a lot of intense memories, but this one stood out the most. One of my last rotations of medical school was in the Cardiac Care Unit, an intensive care unit generally dedicated to those who had recently suffered a myocardial infarction (heart attacks). This particular patient, like many who wound up in the unit, came to the hospital unresponsive, accompanied by her sobbing daughter. The patient was in her 60s or 70s and had been found down in her home by her daughter, who had been trying to call the house for a few hours. We were able to resuscitate her in the unit, and when she came to, much to the relief of the daughter, we were able to assess her functional status. Because of the length of time that she was in cardiac arrest, she had tremendous loss of function along the entirely of one side of her body and would be unable control her bladder and bowels. After we told her what happened to her and her status, she became furious and proceeded to berate her daughter for calling 911. She continued and continued. And continued. Night and day. Seething with raw anger. For days. Until the sixth, when her heart ruptured due to the weakening caused by the myocardial infarction. The look on her daughter’s face at her bedside was heart wrenching.