Precious Time

Affiliations: ¹Internal Medicine/Palliative Care, University of Texas Health Science Center, San Antonio, TX ²South Texas Veteran Affairs Health Care System

I walk into her room, quietly.

She hears my tip toeing.

“Hi doc, it’s you again!” she smiles.

“I am still around,” she feebly whispers.

“I came to say hello,” I reply.

“That’s nice of you,” she says, drifting in and out of her sleep.

I am at a loss for words; my silence, betraying me yet again.

These moments, even though challenging, are equally humbling. They never seem to get any easier, even with time and repetition.

I pull a chair close to her. She grasps my hand. Her bristly fingers and worn out knuckles shed light on her earlier life; tough but content.

She seems to be staring at the wall and talking to someone. “Charlie…,” she giggles like a little girl. Her husband, who also succumbed to cancer two years ago, was called Charlie, I recall.

Her monologue seems comforting in an awkward way. Perhaps she is really talking to Charlie, something outside my limited realm of understanding.

She has a few more hours, maybe a day left, before she joins him. She often mentioned looking forward to seeing him once again.  Life without him was like an empty box of chocolates.

The morphine drips is still running on demand. It has helped ease her pain. Her grip softens, and I gently pull my hand away.

This is my cue to leave. I want to say goodbye, but as always, she beats me to it.

It’s hard for me to hide my tears as she yields to her cancer. She fought hard, but nature is doing what it does best. We both nurture nature’s approach.

I walk towards the door, wiping any remnant tears that could expose my sorrow, perhaps weakness.

I turn to look at her, may be one last time.

“I will come by tomorrow,” I say. 

“I know you will,” she answers with a chortle.

I walk towards the corridors, white and bright, seemingly divine.

I feel an aching inside; profound and abysmal. I know she will be okay, free from pain and sorrow, welcomed in a better dwelling.

As for me, I quickly wind up my day, leaving early to cherish time with my little two-year old boy. 

Life often reminds me of a clock; every tick is a second gone. Indeed, time is undoubtedly precious.

Disclosures: The authors report no relevant financial relationships.

Address correspondence to:  Sayed K. Ali, MD, Assistant Professor, UTHSCSA, 7400 Merton Minter Blvd, San Antonio, TX 78229; sayed.ali@va.gov

Acknowledgments: This work was prepared as part of the author’s official duties. The views expressed herein are those of the authors and do not reflect the official policy or position of the Veteran Affairs or the US Government.

Photo Credit:  Pierre EmD. Wikimedia Commons.