I approached the family and offered my condolences. Tears gathered in the corner of my eyes but I did not let them come. It was not my place to weep. That would not have served this family well. My presence there represented something opposite of sorrow and in honor of this woman and in deference to her grieving family, I had to deliver strength, optimism and hope in a moment when I was lost for words. So, there I stood, speaking of this woman's resilience, her gentle spirit, her positive attitude and her love of life. I know not whether my words eased the heartache, but I do know they made a difference. There we stood, reminiscing a bit when in the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of this woman's doctor. This, too, was not unusual...at least not to me. Throughout the years of my own attendance at these gatherings, I would routinely see this man as well.
The family was so immediately happy to see him. They commented that they had never seen a doctor attend the wake of a patient before and while I know how odd that may be in the usual sense, it is not odd for this doctor. He is beloved. All of his patients love him, truly, love him. His colleagues respect him. He goes against the grain a lot of the time - going above and beyond in the duty of medicine and caring for the patient, the person, the individual, the spirit. I was captured by his own loss of words because despite the fact that I had seen him attend many of these events, I had never really focused on his presence.
He was kind and gentle to the family. He offered words of condolence. The family thanked him for caring for her for 15 years. And that's what struck me most. For 15 years, this doctor had the job of keeping this patient alive. And this thought led me to think about all of the healthcare professionals I know that work in this field. Every single day, they have a job of keeping their patients alive. This field is different. It is complicated. It is fragile. It is unkind. And it takes the life of many people, often unanticipated and sometimes because the patients have simply had enough. No matter the reason, I have seen in this field, healthcare providers bond with their patients in a way that one would bond with those closest to them. How it must cause an internal shatter when they suffer a loss.
I watched this man with this family. His mere presence lifted them in a way that I could not. That other could not. He remained unemotional but kind. He shared his thoughts on this woman and her own kindness and internal goodness. He apologized in a way that we all do when we attend wakes and funerals. The words of "I'm so sorry" have seemingly become the norm when we know not else what to say. He stayed but a few minutes but his presence I am sure lingered with this family for hours.
As I drove home that night I couldn't help but reflect on what I just saw. I saw a doctor, a hero to many, suffer a loss that he could not openly process. And this made me think of how it must affect him each time he loses a patient. This is the side of death that we don't always reflect on. I understand the family's pain. I have experienced it firsthand. But it made me think about the other side of death. How must it impact the doctors, nurses, technicians, and other healthcare professionals that each and every day set out to keep their patients alive and then that patient is gone. They miss their time at the clinic...which often means something not so good. They end up in the hospital suffering with things that these professionals know will not have a good outcome. They ride the ups and downs with these patients for sometimes many years and then often suffer the loss. The chair in the clinic becomes empty during a certain appointment time. But ah not for long, because another patient has come along that now sits in that very same chair. And the process begins again. The responsibility...dare I say privilege...of keeping another alive.
For some reason, I understood that this doctor too was processing his own grief while being strong for the family. And I understood in a way that I did not before, that he needed comfort too. That evening, for all of the healthcare professionals that I know who work in this field, I had a new-found respect and admiration for them. They keep people alive on a daily basis. And sometimes they lose. But my gosh....they work damn miracles every single day. I cannot think of a more noble life's work.
