The Human Touch 2013 - University of Colorado Denver

The Saga of Ms. White [Continued]
her side and me cheering from the back, but she was obviously weary, waiting
for some amount of peace. So on the third discharge attempt, there wasn’t
that tinkling in the air of little chimes of excitement that there had been during
the fi rst discharge. Instead the news landed hard with a dull thud.
On this day that was supposed to be a triumph, Ms. White was alone for the
fi rst time, and she started to cry. My team let me stay and as she spoke, the
room fi lled with her fears and doubts and worries without her companions to
banish them away. So I fell into the liturgy that I had seen played out so many
times over the past month. I grabbed the notebook and one by one wrote in
her questions with the accompanying answers. I had almost fi lled up the last
few pages when she stopped crying, but I couldn’t leave the ritual incomplete; I
asked if she wanted to pray. She nodded, grabbed my hands, bowed her head
and began; only what she started saying wasn’t for her, it was for me.
As her words poured over me, the past month fl ooded back. How I loved the
OR and procedures and sutures. But the times that stood out, that I waited for
each day,that left me fulfi lled, those were all Ms. White. They were her family
and her confi dantes. It brought back my entrance essay in which I spoke about
how medicine was about advocacy and how I wanted so desperately to fi ll the
role of listener and comforter in people’s most vulnerable times. The fl urry of
third year settled and was silent, and I heard a warm, embracing, resonance
that reminded me of what gave my work meaning. As she said, “Amen,” I was
refreshed. Tears were now in my eyes, maybe a little unprofessional but she
just smiled. She was back, and she was ready to go home.
So there she was stood only a few hours later, in her loose fi tting black dress.
A little paler, certainly thinner, but there she stood, strong and beautiful. She
had shared all of herself with me and renewed my purpose as a physician. So
when she said, “Thank you,” I hope you understand why all I could do was
whisper, “Thank you,” back.
*All names have been changed •
Twilight [Mary Norbury-Glaser]
PG 122
PG 123