“I think it’s even more important that we talk about getting off of heroin now,” I added.
The next day he limped the two to three miles to our mobile clinic and apologized repeatedly for the previous day’s behavior.
We made a plan: He would take medication for his depression, see the behaviorist and follow strict rules for his pain medication. During the rest of our time together, Ed stuck to the plan.
Seeing my face, she said, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll be all right.”
John, wheelchair-bound due to a severe low back condition, was also very overweight, with heart disease and chronic kidney disease. Educated and articulate, he’d been approved for disability, but hadn’t been able to find wheelchair-accessible housing. He was sleeping in his car, which led to horrible swelling in his legs.
Even though I couldn’t stay at my first job, I feel grateful for the moments that my patients and I shared. They taught me humility and gave me a broader perspective on the inevitable hardships in life.
Now, when I go to sleep at night, I am very thankful for my bed. And I say a prayer for all those without one.
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