It was a Sunday. The students and interns had the day off so it was just the senior resident and me. This Grady elder was our last patient.
Yup.
Me: "What questions do you have for us?"
Her: "I don't have any questions. Y'all answered them. Thank you."
2/ Me: "Okay. Is there anything else you need before we go?"
Her: "May I have one minute of your time?"
Us: *looking at each other*
Resident: "Sure. Tell us what you need."
She extended both of her hands out toward us, gesturing for each of us to take one of them.
We did.
3/ She held our gaze and then spoke.
Her: "I'd like to pray for y’all. Is that okay?"
Shoot.
My breath hitched. I didn't want my resident to feel pressured or uncomfortable.
Shoot.
Had I been alone? This would’ve been a no brainer. But I was not.
Shoot.
Resident: “Okay.”
4/ My eyes shot back over to my resident but she was looking at our patient. So I nodded in agreement.
Her: “Every head is bowed and every eye is closed. . .”
She then clasped our fingers inside of hers. Softly, deliberately she began to pray.
And pray she did.
5/ She prayed over our careers, our families, asked for our protection, patience, wisdom, compassion and that we be empowered with the energy we need to keep going. She asked that we always, always recognize that we have been commissioned as healers.
She squeezed our hands.
6/ She repeated that last part louder and startled us.
Her: “Commissioned as healers!”
After saying amen, she pulled us both into a hug. It was so tender and genuine. It was like she had made up her mind to infuse us with as much love as she could possibly muster.
Yup.
7/ Her: "Walk in your purpose, hear?”
We both nodded.
We thanked her and prepared to leave.
Her: “I love y’all.”
Resident: “We love you, too.”
And I nodded again because I agreed. Even though we’d only known her for two days.
Yup.
8/ If you had any idea the things that this patient was battling, you'd fall to your knees crying. This elder was nearing the end of life.
Sigh.
I’d expected for something like an ice cold Coke. Or a pack of gum. Or even a coffee. But instead she wanted to give.
To give.
9/ The older I get, the more I recognize that a heartfelt gift often blesses the giver more than the recipient. I'm not sure where my resident stands when it comes to religion, but I love that she was gracious and welcoming of what our patient had to offer.
Yeah. That.
10/ We finished rounding in time for me to scoot across town to join my family for church service. As I slid into the pew, all I could think of was this tender prayer spoken over us by a terminally ill patient who had every right to think of no one but herself.
1/ Random moment while in line in the Grady coffee shop:
Her: "I remember you. You that lady that said I need to lose weight and get a better fitting bra when I said my back hurt."
Me: "I remember you, too. You changed your hair. It looks nice."
2/ Her: "It's a wig.”
Me: *shrugs* “I still like it on you.”
She folded her arms and sucked her teeth.
Her: “I didn't like you at all."
Me: “No?”
Her: “No!”
Me: "I can respect that choice. How's your back?"
Her: "Respect what choice? A wig or me not liking you?"
Me: "Both."
3/ Her: "My back is a lot better."
Me: "Oh yeah? What did the trick?"
Her: "I lost some weight. And got a different bra."
*laughter*
After that, she reached out and gave me a big hug. And I hugged her right back. Hard.
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.
Me: “I know other people have mentioned this to you already, but just wanted to check in about the #COVIDVaccine. I’m told you’re still thinking about it.”
You: “Yeah.”
*silence*
Me: “Wait, so yeah, you thinking about it?”
You: “Yeah.”
2/ *laughter*
Me: “Would you be okay with me talking to you a little more about it? Like, to give you more things to consider as you deliberate about it?”
You: “Yeah.”
You gave one eyebrow a playful raise.
Me: “Yeah?”
You: “Yeah.”
3/ You: “Although I think I done heard everything you ‘bout to say.”
I gave a hard nod and thought for a moment.
Me: “Okay. Then I need your help.”
You: “Help how?”
Me: “I have your ear but I sort of don’t know what to say. So I’m hoping you can tell me what’s stopped you.”
1/ You used such beautiful words. Words like “gingerly” to describe how you approached the physical therapy maneuvers you tried that morning. And “cacophony” in reference to the food tray someone accidentally knocked to the floor.
I loved them all.
2/ Me: “You have such beautiful words. Such lovely and unexpected ones. It’s becoming my favorite thing on rounds this week.”
You: “Oh, aren’t words just grand? And so many to choose.”
You released a gentle chuckle. Then you coughed.
But gingerly.
3/ And so. Because it was established that we were both lovers of words, I closed each visit the same.
Me: “So what’s the word?”
And each time you would smile, stare off for a beat, and then share one.
Him: "I like the way you look at me."
Me: "Excuse me, sir?"
Him: "I mean. . . I like how your eyes look at me."
His words caught me off guard. I’d only been there a few moments. It seemed misplaced.
Me: "I want to receive that. Tell me what you mean, sir."
2/ Him: "It's like your eyes they look at me like . . . I don't know. Like I'm somebody worth you looking at.”
Me: *listening*
Him: “Like they happy to see me. Do that make sense?"
Me: "I think so."
*silence*
3/ Him: "It’s like, when you came in here, you put your eyes on me and right off they told me. Like you made up your mind even 'fore you came in here. Like, 'So what about what he look like or what stuff he got going on. He worth my time.’ I could tell.”