"A mensch, do you know what a mensch is?" I had to admit that I had no clue but it didn't sound good. With the ever present twinkle in his eye, Aaron declared that my education was insufficient and that he would take it upon himself to teach me the important words to know in Yiddish. It was the least that this good old Jewish boy could do for his "mormon" doctor. Through the next few years we grew closer together as he overcame lung cancer, struggled to control gout and progressively deteriorated as his emphysema progressively sapped his body of strength. Knowing he could not live forever, we discussed his goals for the end of his life. He did not want to linger on machines but he was certainly not wanting to give up on life either. At the end it was a massive heart attack that took his life. He was rushed to the hospital, the cardiologists tried to open up the blockage but his frail body could not take the damage and he did not make it back up to the intensive care unit. Not knowing these details at the time, I was on my way to see him and happened to meet his family in the lobby of the hospital and learned that they had been called urgently to come up to the ICU. I ran up the stairs before them, only to learn of his demise. It broke my heart to turn and notify his loving family of his passing. Tears were shed together. As I told his daughter how much I cared for him, she responded, "he loved you, you were such a mensch." To what seemed to be harsh sounding consonants those years before, now rang with sweet praise. What an honor!
The last farewell that I will share started with Shirley and ended with Millard. Having dealt with repeated lung issues, Shirley was declining and was adamant that she did not want to go back to the hospital ever again. Her family called me in a panic on a weekend, as her breathing had become worse and she was struggling to breath. They wanted desperately to do something for her but did not want to go against her wishes. I told them that I would meet them at her house and arrange for nurses to come by. I then called the hospice team and arranged for them to meet me there. My wife was out of town, so I brought my boys with me to the visit. I calmed the family's fears and promised that their wife and mother would not be allowed to suffer. The hospice nurses did a wonderful job and she was allowed to stay at home until the end. That night as we turned to leave their home, her husband, Millard, turned to my boys and told them how grateful he was to me, their "angel" father. His kind words to my sons deeply touched my soul. Over the next 5-6 years, Millard himself slowly declined. Once an avid cyclist, he was discouraged by his inability to get around as he would have liked. He had to give up his beloved home. He made the best of his situation, taking up his oil paint brushes which had long laid dormant. In the last few years of his life he completed portraits of his dear wife, his two children and of himself. I saw him regularly, keeping an eye on his kidney function but in the end his old body just started to give out. He developed Parkinson's which made it difficult to move around. I received a call from his daughter who told me he had become too weak to even go downstairs to eat. I told her I would stop by. He knew it was the end. We arranged for the hospice nurses to come again. He did not last long, passing quietly at home.
AMEN, this made me cry.
ReplyDeleteIt is such a treasure, to have been a part of your team and I miss you All.
Christa
Thanks for sharing such tender stories, Good Doctor.
ReplyDeleteWhere is the "like" button?
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