Today I saw his mother, standing in the Clinic’s hallway, waiting for papers to be filled out, signed and handed over, so that she could go on with all that needs to be done. Standing, but barely, shaking, each moment fighting back the tears. I was there for the M&M, tired, high-strung, overdosed on caffeine. I met her gaze and looked away, took the elevator, sat through the conference. When I came back down, she was still there, fragile, grief-stricken, alone in the world. So I went over to tell her how sorry I was, and hugged her, let the tears flow for a minute or two. I hardly think it made a difference. But then, I don’t want to be this person who looks away and says nothing. Acknowledging the pain and the loss is the least we can do when we can do nothing more. A millionth fraction of her pain is my pain, too. I need to face it for so many reasons, hers and mine, and those of all my future patients. And then, in a day or two, I need to let it go…
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