Days 45-47: Hospice

So many people give me a funny look and a, "I could never do that.  My heart's too big" when I mention that my life's calling is to work as a hospice physician.  Most of the time, I give a half smile and try not to bristle at the insinuation that the only way to work in hospice is to have a Grinch-sized heart.  I realize that their comments may not be as they sound, but it still can by annoying to hear.  I realize now that many people succumb to the sadness of death.  It's the completeness of death, the fact that there is nothing more to be done to see that person again in this reality.  Death is hard.  I am not confessing that I am immune to its sadness, to the "what ifs" and regrets of what should have been done before the loved one died.  Sometimes, I wish that I had spent more time with my grandmother before she passed away.  Sometimes I wish that I had been able to spend more time with my first cat, Chewy.  I wish I'd had more time to get to know LOML's grandfather.  These are the "selfish" parts of me where the gain would be so I could feel better at the end of the day.  In reality, I did well by each of these people and creature before they died.  They each lived wonderful lives, had great accomplishments, and were allowed to pass peacefully in the end.  While the people I care for in hospice are not my direct family, I do get to know their families.  I feel like I become part of their inner circles.  I am saddened when they pass, but I am honored to be allowed to care for them in such an intimate and sacred moment in time with them and their families.  It is the honor I hold on to in being able to treat each person with dignity and respect in a healthcare system that can easily strip them of it.  Getting this brief moment in time to care for a person and his or her family, to hold their hands, and guide them through the process.  This is indescribable.  It fills my spirit to care for these people on hospice because I know I have made a difference when a family that is scared and feels that medicine has turned their backs on them can find me there, not afraid of where the journey will end.  Death is not the enemy, suffering is.  In a way, I am likely still being selfish in finding light in the darkness, but I am giving back to other families the time that I was given with my grandmother when she was on hospice.  This is so vitally important to who I am as a person and a doctor.  I cannot deny the roots that led to my career choice.