leaves fading from green
leaves fading from green Read More »
One Was Answered
All through November he prayed, “Please God, help this pain, and please help me find out what is wrong so I can heal.”
Through December: “Please God, when I see the doctor, don’t let it be cancer. And I beg you to please help this pain.”
In January and February his prayer changed to, “Please God, let the chemotherapy and radiation work.”
Praying to Pray
I was 25 years old, a fourth-year medical student, and suffering from a severe depression. I was getting cognitive behavioral therapy (which was then fairly new) from a psychiatry resident at my medical school. I was a good patient and kept a journal describing my therapy. About a week after thinking seriously about suicide, I wrote this prayer in my journal:
Presence
I take a deep breath in and let it out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. I wipe the sweat off my palms, adjust the newly-minted stethoscope draped around my neck and knock on the door.
A voice croaks, “Come in,” and I enter the room to find the patient on the chair. His eyes look tired.
Nunc dimittis
My father, a pathologist, was diagnosed with late-stage gastric cancer soon after I was married. He knew exactly what the diagnosis meant, but he enjoyed life for another two years. Then he stopped responding to treatment and began to decline over the winter. He and my mother were happy to learn I was pregnant with their first grandchild, due in June.
A Wish Fulfilled
Once age and declining health prevented my mother from continuing to work as a salesperson in a local children’s furniture store, something she had done for 41 years, she began to pray that she would die.
Someone Loved Her Too
Sophia Görgens
The first mistake I made
was leaving my ID card home
in the pocket of my fleece–
the one with a zipper that broke
in Namibia and a hole stabbed
by a pencil during finals, worn
deep with worry and time.
Later, I asked someone else
to let me into the lab.
We made small talk in the hall.
Second, it was drizzling and my umbrella
knew not where it was. How poetic!
I mean to say, I forgot it too.
Morning lecture dried my frizzled hair,
and anyway, maybe cadavers like
the smell of rain.
Someone Loved Her Too Read More »
Our Father…
Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name.
When I found myself alone with a family and their dying son, the familiarity and dependability of the Lord’s Prayer was the best I could muster. Not yet a family doc, I was a fresh seminary graduate, struggling as a chaplain to bring comfort in the face of impending grief. Familiar words, with which we could together come before the Almighty, seemed the best place to start.
Enduring Beauty…Rose
Karla Bernstein
About the artist:
“I recently retired as a nurse practitioner, having worked in women’s health since the 1970s. The mysteries of the ‘how-to’ of health and wellness filled my early professional days. As I matured within the role, I was awed that patients allowed me into some of their most intimate moments and thoughts as we worked together to identify and respond to their health challenges. I realized that it was this trusting partnership that was the foundation for a successful healthcare journey. I saw the beauty of the human body and mind within the illness and aging process. With my photography, I aspire to identify, capture and reflect the same sense of mystery and awe that resonated within me during clinical practice.”
About the artwork:
“This is one of a series of botanical images I took celebrating the beauty of our own human process of aging. While working in my garden, I thrill to the loveliness of each species’
Enduring Beauty…Rose Read More »
“Groanings Too Deep for Words”
She hadn’t been able to talk for several days. I don’t know what robbed my mom of her speech. Was morphine the culprit, with its ability to dull both mind and body? Did sheer exhaustion from laboring over each breath leave her too tired to talk? Or maybe her pain was so severe that she could not give voice to its intensity. But what she couldn’t speak with words, she spoke with groanings.
“Groanings Too Deep for Words” Read More »
Third Degree
Susan S. Turner
When I find a lump in my left breast I am stunned. I probably shouldn’t be surprised, but I’m immobilized. It takes me several days before I tell my partner, who has to push me into action. I get the referral from my doctor and schedule a mammogram. The radiology practice fits me into their schedule that same week, but I still have several days to sit with the unknown.
Finally the day of the appointment comes. I wait in the reception area for an hour before the X-ray technician calls my name. As we walk to the exam room, me in my usual long leg braces and aluminum forearm crutches, she is chatty and asks, “How did you get here today?”
“I took the Thruway to Exit 133,” I respond. “The office was easy to find.”
