Hey remember that patient a few weeks ago who kept telling me he was going to die? The one who was totally lucid but whose body had fallen apart something fierce, and was working towards hospice care? Ah, I suppose you don't since I didn't blog about it, but let's pretend that I had.
I took care of a sweet lady the other day, who was in for belly pain. Just before she was shipped off to the OR, the rest of her family came back to say their good lucks. One of her brothers came up to me and said "I just want to thank you for everything you've done for my family."
I was a little perplexed, since this was a fairly straightforward case and the dude seemed about to burst into tears. "It's my pleasure," I responded, "and that's what we're here for. I'm glad I got to take care of your sister."
Then he leaked a few tears and asked if I remembered Mr. Guy, his father, from a few weeks back. Ohhhhhh. Yes. I remember. "He passed away two days after you saw him, with hospice care and surrounded by family. He kept telling us he was going to die, and he was right. And he was happy..."
Brother cried for a minute, and then kept on. "He kept saying how nice you were and that you took such good care of him even when he told you he was dying. Our whole family says thank you."
I looked back at the rest of the family, and damn if every one of them weren't crying too. Of course I teared up, and didn't know what else to do so I just gave Brother a standard side hug - which he promptly turned into a giant wet slobbery teary bear hug. I don't usually stand for that kind of stuff...really, do I want your snot all over me when you're crying, and you're a complete stranger dude, and sometimes I feel awkward with displays of snuggly emotions...but today, I think it's okay.
Mr Guy, I'm glad you went peacefully. And I hope you're enjoying that gin and tonic now.