A day

Less then three weeks. That’s how much time until Micah’s due date. Right now, I’m trying to motivate myself to start working. I’m tired and I really could just sit and watch television all day. However, if I decided to stay at home, I know myself well enough to know I would do anything but sit.

It’s a hard morning to start. My young patient died early this morning. She has three children, the youngest is 12. Her daughter and I sat and talked for a while yesterday. She knew we were this close to her mom’s death. I think she knew it better then all the adults in her family. For a few minutes she pulled out her baby book and we looked at it together. She smiled at some of her pictures that only a mom would take. I felt Micah moving about inside of me. I ached for this mom. She’s fought hard. We want to watch our children grow up. It’s a hard hospice day. Young adults, children, strange deaths, all make for hard days.

I heard it again yesterday from another patient’s sister. “It takes a special person to work this job.” Not really. I get tired of hearing that. I want to say “it takes a special person to live as though death never happens.” That would be unprofessional though. 

I have a good job. God allows me to talk with people when they are faced with the end. Some of them are challenging, some accepting, but life ends for them, ready or not.

My job is good because it reminds me all the time that I am no different then my patients. Ready or not, I’ll face it like them someday.

My job, I would like to believe, forces me to spend more days on the ready side, more days soaking up my family, more days with more important things to think about. More days about people and less days about stupid stuff. At least, that’s my goal. I hope I accomplish it.