poem

 Op Note 30He was one of my favorite patients. He and his wife were so loving and tender together. She never left his side. She slept on the couch in his hospital room and greeted me in the mornings on rounds in a fuzzy robe and furry slippers. They always let me know they saw what I was trying to do.You really care, that ’s what’s different about you, she used to say. In the way she said it, it somehow wasn ' t cringe at all.Watch this man closely, she used to tell my medical students. I felt seen. Isn ’t that wild? Here I am, making it all about me. But that’s ok. They wouldn ’t have minded. They always knew what was real.  I think they were both very religious. About some people you can just tell. A certain manner and grace, no matter the circumstances of life. Holiness without a lick of sternness. They never asked me to pray.  Just to tell the truth.  They noticed that I listened. That I remembered things. They brought me old books from his collection because they knew I liked to read. He was a retired college professor, philosophy and literature. I think there is a textbook somewhere with his name on it.  He was always happy to see me. His eyes widened like a child ' s. Even though I hadn ’t been able to cut it all out. His wife looked at me like a long lost son, the son who never called, who left under a cloud of suspicion but came back just in time for Christmas the year before it was too late. Always grasped my hand with her t...
Source: Buckeye Surgeon - Category: Surgery Authors: Source Type: blogs