Are You My Doctor?!

When my surgeon came to see me the day I checked into the hospital, I showed him my daughter’s pictures in the frame.  I pleaded, “Make me better for her.”

My surgeon worked miracles inside of me.  He saved my life and I am forever grateful, to say the least.  No words can describe how much he gave me, when there was little hope of survival.  As well as an amazing surgeon, he had a great bedside manner.  From all my encounters with him, I learned that he is strong, yet emotional, as all human beings should be.  These traits seem to translate into his important work.  You have to have the intellect, comprehension, and personality to be great.

I don’t believe doctors’ cold behaviour should be tolerated.  The doctor that told me to basically say my “goodbyes” is an example of what doctors shouldn’t be so abrupt about; especially, with patients having to deal with critical illness.  There is no excuse for them showing anger, and I don’t expect them to be inhumane or heartless.  Doctors are human, like the rest of us, and doing their job.  They should realize they are dealing with human beings, even though they are trying to keep their own sanity, when delivering such devastation.  I would never blame a doctor for not being able to save me, if I knew he cared enough to do his best.  Imagine what he has to live with, knowing he can’t save us all.

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The Will

What was I thinking when, during my last couple of days at work, I would attempt to write my Will.  My husband and I meant to take care of it for some time, but with my knee surgery, building our home, and having our daughter – all overlapping – the Will didn’t take precedence.  Who expected to need it anyway, so soon after being married?

Sitting in the food court eating my tray lunch, I made notes of my assets and how I wanted them divided amongst my family, set instructions regarding my daughter and who would become her legal guardian – who was I kidding?!  I had to stop writing because the tears kept rolling down my cheeks.  My eyes were probably bloodshot, so I was too embarrassed to look up from the paper.  This was necessary, but I wasn’t getting anywhere.  The tiny napkins that were handed to me with my tray by the food kiosk, were drenched from tears and blowing my nose.

Had the people around me noticed I was crying?  Were they thinking I was saying goodbye to someone, or did they think I was just crazy?  I doubt they would think I was writing my Will and heading into the fight of my life.  Heart-wrenching emotion I couldn’t prevent from leaking out, so I was forced to put the notes aside.  Thinking clearly or being objective was impossible at that point.

 

Looks like summer is here to stay!  Enjoy!  Hope you’ll “Share” this link and continue reading my memoir.  Catch up by reading through the Archive Section, beginning with last December.  Thank you!

Patricia