Life and Death

Today I'm struggling with life and death matters. His life and his death matter to me. "He" is one of my patients. I work at a hospital where I encounter all kinds of people with all kinds of ailments on a regular basis. I learn something new and have renewed faith in people regularly, I've learned how I want to treat others by the way I would want people to treat my mom in such a setting, and my heart breaks for the loneliness and brokeness that so many people feel. Today one of my "friends" had a birthday. Yesterday her tear-filled eyes asked me to do her a favor. "Will you get me a little doggie or teddy bear if I give you some money?" Today tears filled her eyes as she hugged Patches, her new fuzzy friend.

When a patient gets to go home or move on to another facility, I celebrate their progress and wish them the best. Sometimes I'm reminded of them and I smile, wondering how they're doing, and I go on with my day. Some exits are more somber. He is trying to die with dignity. A gentleman always knows when it's time to go. "Dawn, you are supurb," He tells me in a weak voice, "you're husband is a lucky man." All I could do was thank him softly and hold his hand. It was an emotional day for me because I care, maybe more than I should. My compassion has yet to be toughened and my heart yet to be hardened. Maybe it's just a bad day for my friend, but maybe the end is drawing near. What will I find when I go to work in the morning? Only time will tell. My wish for him is peace like a river and sleep everlasting with an awakening to streets of gold that will never fade or tarnish.