In the arms of an angel

I have seen enough dying people for one lifetime- a part of me dies at every meeting--once in the field one often grows a little numb and number  to the pleas in the eyes...one  tries not to take it to heart-its called self preservation--most times delivering bad news is just another set of bad news being delivered  to one  life met temporarily--or atleast we try to distance ourselves enough for it to be just that...we learn the art of classical conditioning-Pavlov---you get used to the idea and respond with a typical response--we learn to be   empathetic but not to think too much  about the patient or the loved ones who are going through the dying process with them  and dying in their own way too---we avoid finding out how this death affects-we avoid the tears--the real humane experience of dis-ease.We do not know how to deal with people breaking down---we do not know

Often times,treating death as another rite of passage tends to be  more acceptable when the circumstances around the death somehow show a lack of responsibility over one's health  -especially if one thinks of modifiable risk factors--did you smoke--did you exercise--did you drink--did you have yourself regularly checked for this and that--did you take your meds--did you monitor your diet--We ask.These questions somehow qualify a certain level of arm length sort of  uncaring  attitude,if you didn't. --but if you did all you could--if you did all you could! It leaves one  shaking to the core--wondering what control do we really have over our own lives---especially when the patient is a young one-someone we identify with--someone we see ourselves in.

Once in a while there is that one patient--who tugs and pulls at the  dying feelings so hard  that he/she awakens the empathy and the sympathy in the soul so abruptly it momentarily feels like one has been splashed with a  full bucket of ice cold water.

When that happens,the reality of death hits home.it hits hard.This patient is not just another  30 year old male or another  25 year old female---she now becomes a daughter,he now becomes a son-someone's little girl --someone's boy--a wife-a husband-a sister-a brother-a friend-a beloved someone-i see myself in the patient's eyes-my life dreams and goals waiting to be  fulfilled--wondering if tomorrow will ever arrive for this one-an open path of possibility of a life unlived sinking with  anxiety-worry of the unknown--i start feeling a fraction of the fear behind my patient's eyes--the denial-the anger-the frustration--the pleading-the guilt-i wonder what genes are these that are worthy of being passed down-i question the inheritance of my patient's biological makeup--i question God.I question....at times i  meet the smiling dying--the ones who make death look like a little nuisance and face it with soo much bravery --that even though they are dying flames--they still light the whole room up-their eyes have a certain kind of unwavering faith  it hurts--especially if we have to deliver the news--there is nothing more we can do-but even with this kind of news some continue  to stay alive in their faith.These baffle me---their strength--their appreciation of the  little things-their faith ---i envy them--i find myself wishing i could spend my last days adorned in the same smile they wear..---and fly away in the arms of an angel with the memories of my beautiful life seeping through my veins

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