She reaches out to me,

Holding my hand,

And says

“It’s okay if you can’t save me,

I’ve had a good life,

I know I’ll never play pickleball again

And I’m okay with that.”

As I leave the room,

I hear my own words as they exit my mouth

“It’s good to see you.”

Baffled by my nonchalance,

As though observing the scene from above,

As if bidding farewell

To a dinner party guest.

What do I say when it may be the last time we speak

Yet I am still just a stranger,

Knowing her for a mere 3 days of her 83 years?

What words could possibly do this justice?

And yet somehow, I leave the room.

The next patient’s aphasia

Forces him to use gestures,

Pointing to clues around the room

In the world’s most heartbreaking game of charades

To tell me that his beloved wife

Suffered a stroke just a week ago.

What can I possibly say to acknowledge

The frustration and agony of not being understood?

And yet somehow, I leave the room.

The next patient,

In her third trimester

Now cannot move her arm or leg.

We are the same age,

Attending neighboring high schools.

It is impossible not to feel that

This could have been me.

She worries aloud

“Will I ever be able to run after my daughter?”

What comfort can I possibly offer

In this unimaginable moment?

And yet somehow, I leave the room.

Then the family care conference.

He is so young,

Yet months of illness have aged him

And his loved ones too.

His wife,

Shouldering more strength than seems humanly possible,

Asks me the likelihood of a meaningful recovery.

I feel a quiet relief in the comfort of being a mere student,

Able to observe without carrying the weight of this moment.

I can’t fathom playing a role in a decision

That might strip away their last fragile hope of a miracle.

What could I possibly say

As they face the hardest decision yet?

But then

A page cuts through the silence:

Code stroke

And yet somehow, I leave the room.

How do I then go home?

How do I step out of their storms and into the calm of my own life?

It doesn’t feel fair.

How do I leave these patients alone

To wrestle with the unimaginable

While I escape

Relatively unscathed?

And yet somehow, I leave the hospital.