What happens to a secret nobody remembers?
Does it cease to be?
There was something important I used to know.
Something that saved me, once.
Is it gone forever? 1/
Does it cease to be?
There was something important I used to know.
Something that saved me, once.
Is it gone forever? 1/
I reach the hospital early in the morning and begin my rounds just like any other day.
Except today is different.
Today, I have a Helper. He’s waiting for me outside the first patient’s room, and nods a greeting.
I nod in return, then knock on the door, and enter. 2/
Except today is different.
Today, I have a Helper. He’s waiting for me outside the first patient’s room, and nods a greeting.
I nod in return, then knock on the door, and enter. 2/
Who is this Helper? I’m not sure. Am I the only one who can see him? Nobody else seems to look his way.
The first patient sits up in her bed as I enter. She smiles. I say hi, ask her how she’s doing.
The time-honored rituals.
History. Exam. Assessment. Plan. 3/
The first patient sits up in her bed as I enter. She smiles. I say hi, ask her how she’s doing.
The time-honored rituals.
History. Exam. Assessment. Plan. 3/
I ask her if she has any questions.
She shakes her head, but her smile belies an underlying worry.
Why?
My Helper speaks quietly, “She worries about her pet dog, at home. Someone was supposed to check on them, but they haven’t called.”
I nod, understanding. 4/
She shakes her head, but her smile belies an underlying worry.
Why?
My Helper speaks quietly, “She worries about her pet dog, at home. Someone was supposed to check on them, but they haven’t called.”
I nod, understanding. 4/
In the next room on my list is an elderly man with congestive heart failure.
As I go through the rituals, I notice my Helper walk to the window and stare outside at the rain pattering against the glass.
I ignore him, as I focus on the patient. His kidneys are failing. 5/
As I go through the rituals, I notice my Helper walk to the window and stare outside at the rain pattering against the glass.
I ignore him, as I focus on the patient. His kidneys are failing. 5/
After I’ve explained things in detail, including treatment options, I ask the patient if he has any questions.
He shakes his head.
The Helper looks back from the window, “He wants to ask you if he’s dying. He senses his body is failing, and wishes someone would be honest.” 6/
He shakes his head.
The Helper looks back from the window, “He wants to ask you if he’s dying. He senses his body is failing, and wishes someone would be honest.” 6/
In the hallway outside the room I try to get a good look at the Helper.
But I can’t see him clearly.
He looks blurry, out of focus. All I know is he’s wearing a short white coat.
Why is he here? Who is he?
I don’t know. Nobody sees him.
I move on to the next patient. 7/
But I can’t see him clearly.
He looks blurry, out of focus. All I know is he’s wearing a short white coat.
Why is he here? Who is he?
I don’t know. Nobody sees him.
I move on to the next patient. 7/
An elderly woman wakes up slowly, as I greet her.
She looks to me with a blank stare. I begin to speak, introducing myself.
She nods, slowly rubbing her eyes.
We begin the visit.
I’m about halfway through when my Helper speaks up, “You’re wasting your time.”
I look up. 8/
She looks to me with a blank stare. I begin to speak, introducing myself.
She nods, slowly rubbing her eyes.
We begin the visit.
I’m about halfway through when my Helper speaks up, “You’re wasting your time.”
I look up. 8/
“Excuse me?” My voice is tinged with irritation. Who IS this person, this Helper, who interrupts me so casually?
The Helper’s voice is quiet. “You’re standing to her left. Her hearing aid is out of batteries on the left. She can’t hear a word you’re saying.”
I sigh. 9/
The Helper’s voice is quiet. “You’re standing to her left. Her hearing aid is out of batteries on the left. She can’t hear a word you’re saying.”
I sigh. 9/
Shifting position, I restart the visit, making sure she can hear me clearly.
Towards the end I go through the risks and benefits of dialysis, vs our other options.
She says she understands and wants to proceed with dialysis.
The Helper is sitting on a chair by the window. 10/
Towards the end I go through the risks and benefits of dialysis, vs our other options.
She says she understands and wants to proceed with dialysis.
The Helper is sitting on a chair by the window. 10/
“Decisions have momentum. Does she really want dialysis, or are you giving her your own momentum? She doesn’t understand. She says she does, but she doesn’t. You’d know that, if you asked a few meaningful questions.” The Helper turns away.
I sense their disgust with me. 11/
I sense their disgust with me. 11/
Outside the patient’s room, I finally confront the Helper, “Who are you? Are you God? An angel? A ghost?”
“Walk with me.” The Helper starts to walk, blurry and indistinct as always.
I follow.
We leave the hospital. The rain feels cool on my skin.
Forgiving. 12/
“Walk with me.” The Helper starts to walk, blurry and indistinct as always.
I follow.
We leave the hospital. The rain feels cool on my skin.
Forgiving. 12/
I am beginning to see the Helper clearly. The blurry outlines are coalescing.
When the Helper speaks, I now recognize their voice.
It’s my own.
“I’m not God. Just someone who had the time to sit with people, to listen to them.”
It’s me, when I was a medical student. 13/
When the Helper speaks, I now recognize their voice.
It’s my own.
“I’m not God. Just someone who had the time to sit with people, to listen to them.”
It’s me, when I was a medical student. 13/
He looks at me, and smiles sadly before speaking, “What happened to us? You aren’t who I thought I’d become. You aren’t seeing clearly. You aren’t listening. Numb.”
I nod, “Yeah, the last few months have been hard. There was this virus, a pandemic. I lost something.” 14/
I nod, “Yeah, the last few months have been hard. There was this virus, a pandemic. I lost something.” 14/
He nods, lost in thought, “But the pandemic is over now, right?”
I shake my head, “It’s died down. Literally. But it’s just around the corner, waiting to surge. No vaccine. No strategy. Winter’s coming.”
He speaks quietly, “So you stay numb.”
I nod. 15/
I shake my head, “It’s died down. Literally. But it’s just around the corner, waiting to surge. No vaccine. No strategy. Winter’s coming.”
He speaks quietly, “So you stay numb.”
I nod. 15/
We sit down on a bench beneath a tree. I’m wearing my mask. Younger me isn’t, but he’s just a figment of my imagination.
I remember what it felt like.
To be vulnerable, and allow empathy to send feelings that were never yours coursing through you.
To bear those burdens. 16/
I remember what it felt like.
To be vulnerable, and allow empathy to send feelings that were never yours coursing through you.
To bear those burdens. 16/
COVID-19 has taken something from me. From so many of us.
We don’t talk about it.
We try to act like the tsunami crashed over us and everything is okay now, even as we wander through the wreckage in a daze.
We are lost in the aftermath.
We are the aftermath. 17/
We don’t talk about it.
We try to act like the tsunami crashed over us and everything is okay now, even as we wander through the wreckage in a daze.
We are lost in the aftermath.
We are the aftermath. 17/
What happens to a secret nobody remembers?
Does it cease to be?
There was something important I used to know.
Something that saved me, once.
Is it gone forever?
I look to my Helper, but he’s gone.
I’m just sitting alone, on a bench, in the steady rain.
Does it cease to be?
There was something important I used to know.
Something that saved me, once.
Is it gone forever?
I look to my Helper, but he’s gone.
I’m just sitting alone, on a bench, in the steady rain.
