Sleepless

3AM Clock

3 a.m.

Another sleepless night. Brain fog. This has become the all-too-often price of loving, parenting, aging, and doctoring. Mr. H. is going home today on hospice. Over the last few months, all I could do was watch as his disease progressed relentlessly and stole him from us step by step. Families have their own grief and don’t need to know about mine. My personal presence and concern are my contribution, and I pray for them. I remain powerless in some situations. Early in my training, a senior physician said, “You will be amazed sometimes at how little we can do.” He was right. Sometimes he’s wrong, but not often enough.

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