Thread by @gradydoctor

1/
Grady Hospital Clinic

I could feel your grief the moment I stepped into the room. The resident had already told me of your loss.

So fresh.
So recent.

They said you cried on an off for the whole visit. BP controlled. Labs fine. And a depression screen was negative.

Yeah.

2/
So me? I was just tasked with closing the loop as the attending physician. And, with no concerns with your chronic conditions, there wasn’t much to add or teach.

Or say.

I mean, other than sorry. Because I was.

I so was.

3/
I’d never met you before this day. But when I walked in and saw your face cloaked in pain, I searched myself for something. . . anything . . . to help.

But what was there? You had funeralized your son. And yes, though he was “grown” as you said, still.

He was your son.

4/
Even worse was the how.

You: “So crazy. I always was scared he could get shot, you know? I got him through his young years. Into being a man, you know? I ain’t never even thought it would be something like this.”

I was sitting on the foot rest of the clinic table. Silent.

5/
You gave a tiny shrug.

You: “I hate #COVID. I know I’m preaching to the choir but I gotta say I do.”

And yeah. I wondered that thing that people wonder when they hear of a #COVID death.

Was he sick?
Was he vaccinated?
Was he, like, healthy before?

But I knew not to ask.

6/
It’s like you read my mind, though.

You: “He ain’t want nothing to do with that shot. He say, ‘Mama, even if I get it I’d rather just deal with it than get that shot.’”

After that, you smoothed out your skirt and sighed with a resolved shrug as if to say:

It is what it is.

7/
So we sat in this suspended silence. Which, really, was only a few seconds but felt like more.

I looked up at you and offered a smile. Except, under my mask, you probably couldn’t tell.

I parted my lips to speak.

8/
Me: “What is his name? Your son.”

Is. Not was.

I could tell that caught you off guard. But it is still his name. And you are still his mother.

Is. Not was.

You: “He was named for his daddy. But I had three girls before him. So we all called him ‘Brother.’”

Brother.

9/
Me: “Tell me about Brother’s personality. He sounds special.”

You paused for a beat.

You: “Real loving. And giving. And fun-ny.”
Me: “Yeah?”
You: “Oh yeah. So funny.”

*silence*

You: “And as a boy? Spoiled rotten.” *chuckles* “I mean just rotten, chile!”

*laughter*

10/
You: “One time? His oldest sister was going to a carnival with a boy. And oooh, how he carried on so for her to take him along!”
Me: “Did she take him?”
You: “Did she? Girl, Brother came home with cotton candy, a stuffed bear, AND one a’them big ol’ lollipops.”

*laughter*

11/
You: “And would you believe that’s the man his sister ended up marrying?”
Me: “Whaaat? Even with Brother crashing their date?”

*laughter*

You: “Girl yeah. Sholl did. Brother and him ended up being real close, too. Even when they got grown. Sholl did.”

Sholl did.

12/
Me: “I love it.”

*silence*

Me: “Do you have a picture of Brother that I can see?”

You sure did. In fact, you had many. And I leaned over your phone as your leathery finger swiped through image after image. You told me where y’all were and who else was in it.

Sholl did.

13/
By the time you finished, I felt like I knew him. And I understood just why so many people were sad to see him go.

I reached for the door and paused.

Me: “Thanks for introducing me to Brother.”
You: *nodding*
Me: “You’ll have to tell us more stories about him next time.”

14/
You: “I sholl have a lot of ‘em.”
Me: “Okay, then it’s a deal.”

I gave you a little wave and walked out.

Next, I paused in the hallway. I pictured Brother sticky-faced between his sister and her beau while crashing that date. It made me laugh out loud.

Sholl did.

15/
So here is the part where someone expects this to become a cautionary #COVIDVaccine tale.

But nope.

Mostly I’m just thinking about what a privilege it is to get to do this job and care for these human beings. It so very is.

Is. Not was.

Yeah.💛

#humanismalways