yesterday i saw what felt like my first patient
history of breast cancer, lung cancer, dementia, strokes
she was jewish a mother and a grandmother
she was petite, she had soft freckled skin and she was dying
there were many photographs in the room, she had been beautiful
today she feels warm; fast heart rate, cheyne-stokes breathing and no blood pressure
but she sleeps peacefully
"it will probably be today"
mrs. k wasn't my patient, but i won't forget her
her warmth and the pictures on the wall
that she was already so utterly confused
but that she heard me, felt me, maybe realized it was the end of something
and that it was okay and it was comfortable
the new yorker's Letting Go
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