I've just spoken to the the daughter of a critically ill patient about doing an invasive, but important procedure to support her father's life. Tears well up in her eyes as she asks, "If this were your dad, would you want him to have this procedure done?" And for a split moment, I think of my dad, and I nearly tear up. If it were my dad, I would never ever want him to be so sick that he would need this procedure. But I would say yes if he needed it.
There's an elderly mother of the household who came in with belly pain in the morning and is wondering if there's any chance she'll be discharged home by 4 PM, which is when all of her guests are coming over for dinner. For a moment, I think about all those people coming over and how fretful she is about the gathering, and I really do wish I could get her home in time.
There's a patient who's been admitted to the hospital countless times, but she's avoided it for the last few years. She's also a momma of the household and spent the entire day cooking Christmas dinner before coming in. When I tell her that her condition is serious enough that we need to admit her, she becomes disinhibited for a brief moment and drops an F bomb. And then she turns to her daughter, at bedside, and says, "What I want you to do is go home, and bring me some of that food. First, you sit down and have a nice meal. And then bring me back some of that food."
And there's a momma who's not from around here, but just walked over from the Children's Hospital where her baby is in the ICU. They were both hit by a car while walking yesterday. She's basically unscathed and her baby is not. I almost cry in the room taking her history.
Christmas is about families. Christmas made me take a step back and think about those relationships, and see my own loved ones in these patients. Everyone's just hoping to spend some time with their families today. I won't be doing that this year, but today it's something to be reminded of my own family members as my patients imagine and try to make it towards their own.
