Thursday, November 13, 2008
For a Patient.
Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.
We passed the school, where children strove
At recess, in the ring;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
Or rather, he passed us;
The dews grew quivering and chill,
For only gossamer my gown,
My tippet only tulle.
We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.
Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.
Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.
Let from my soul disappear
The separation's sharp rebuke!
And let me see that dear look,
And let me hear voice that dear.
And when will vanish dark of night
And you will free my eyes at leaving,
Oh, if my heart would have a right
To lose its love till dark of evening!
Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
"There's no place like home."
-Dorothy Gale, from Kansas.
Honoring one of my favorite patients, who will probably not make it 48 hours.
I think she recognized me for a second today. She smiled, for just a moment in her confusion and pain.
And then she simply said, "I want to go home."
Maybe I'll see her tomorrow. Maybe not.
Whatever happens, I am grateful to her and her family for allowing me to help them. I am grateful for their love, which teaches me to love in kind.
And I hope that when she does go home, she finds peace.
Sometimes, holding someone's hand is all you can do.
Words from Transitional Times.
- ► 2009 (28)