Monday, December 29
I don't say goodbyes very well.1 comments
In fact, the more I like you, the more chance I will never officially say goodbye. I might say "see you around" even if I know that I will never share the same breathing space with you again. It's just what I do. Goodbyes are heartbreaking for me. And like with most things that break my heart, I foolishly crash hard into them and then avoid the disaster that is goodbye.
I didn't expect this from my job. Not really. To witness generations of people who I literally touch and converse with for hours and hours. It happens with both my patients and my coworkers. These people who I share intimate space & emotions with just kind of disappear. Suddenly I am the only one left to account for a story that I shared with one other person. I don't know what to do with this story so I write it down. Sometimes three or four times to capture it fully. And then I try to leave it, because there is nothing to do with it. It is lonely holding only one half of the story and with nobody to remember it with me.
This month I discharged four patients who I truly loved. People I learned from and sang with and held book clubs with and held hands with and goofed around with for at least 6 months or more. And there are other kind, wonderful souls who are also leaving this month. Their faces- warm and welcoming and encouraging- disappear from the water cooler or middle blue mat. Their arms & hands which I study like history or math problems are suddenly back in the public moving around a million other imperfect, strange bodies. I admire my patients so much. They are brave & crafty in their adventure which is life. It is a privlege to encounter them.
So I had to say goodbye to him. We sang "We wish you a merry Christmas" all Christmas eve together. Somehow I had convinced him to come in and spend Christmas eve with me at the clinic. "Okay," he said slowly as if I had just twisted his arm. "If you want me here." He was, by far, one of my favorite people to treat. Perhaps because he would sing with me as we exercised when I heard Springsteen on the radio. He rarely spoke words correctly but he knew every word to every song that I wanted to sing. And often he would join me in making funny sound effects when we put his arm through range of motion.
He was standing there, waiting for the buses when I found him to say goodbye. I was, unfortunately, crying. He smiled- lopsided- and reached out to me. "My little angel," he said sweetly, pulling my hand and giving me a hug. I hate saying goodbye.
posted by Jenny Monday, December 29, 2008
