A reflection

I dreaded meeting this patient all weekend. I had heard the report on Friday. I knew the "story." She wanted to go home to die. She is finally through with the treatment. She is very, very, sick. She probably won't make it another week. But, she really wants to be at home. I quickly called my supervisor and suggested the hospital social worker talk with her. She has little kids, does she want them to see her die? They sent the hospital social worker, who is wonderful, but she wants to be at home.

So, I go. She's six months from my age. I walk in the room and see a young husband, like mine, giving medicine through a pump. I see her toddler snuggled next to her on her bed. I've prayed all day to be composed in this moment. So far, for the first thirty seconds, I'm composed. They shoo their toddler out of the room so they can talk. They use words and phrases that are common at my house these days. I'm more then rattled.

After some small talk, I manage out something like, "okay, look, I've dreaded seeing you." She looks a bit confused, but I continue. "We are about the same age, we both have little kids, and I know in my heart that if I were in your position, there is nothing that I could say to you today to make this any better or different. So I'm just here to help walk with you, whatever that looks like, I'm here." She smiles. We chat for a while a longer and she says,

"We are still praying for our miracle."

I hear that a lot with this work. I believe miracles can happen. I don't pray for them enough, because, well, I rarely see them. I pray for my patients. I don't recall ever asking for the healing miracle though. In three years of patients, I've only seen the healing type of miracle once. That was a lady in her nineties, which, given today, makes no sense at all. I assure her that miracles can happen, but also encourage her to prepare as best she can. After all, none of us are promised tomorrow.

After a while, I chat with her husband and some others, then I leave. I sit in my car for a long time. I bowed my head, closed my eyes, opened my hands and prayed.

I asked God to give her a miracle. A healing miracle. I asked that she would see her kids grow up. And since I was so blatantly reminded of my own mortality today, I prayed this evening that I would get to see my kids grow up too.

Every day, I see two miracles. They are currently three and six months old.

It's about time I start recognizing them as such.