The daughter of one of my patients passed away last night. That's right, the daughter, not the patient. Occasionally in my line of work a patient will die. That's just the nature of working with the elderly. You never really get used to it, but it happens anyway. This particular woman, however, was the 50-something daughter of a long-term patient of mine who I have visited 1-2 times per week for a little over a year. The last time I saw her was right before Christmas when she handed me a bag of goodies for me and my kids and then ran off to do more Christmas shopping. Three days later she was in the hospital and now, two weeks later, she's gone.
Why or how she died is not important. I just can't shake that last image of her out of my head - just a regular person like any one of us, getting things ready for the holidays and having no idea that she only had a few weeks left to live. How can someone be there one minute and then suddenly gone the next? It doesn't make sense.
She was an interesting character who always dressed in wild, vibrant colors - orange scarf, lime green sweater, crazy multi-colored boots. She never married and never had kids, yet occasionally mentioned she would have liked to have done those things. She longed to return to her beloved Colorado but was instead tied to this area to care for her invalid mother. She openly discussed her struggles with bi-polar disorder and her frustrations with dealing with the issue of getting quality care for her mother.
Now that she's gone it makes me sad that she won't ever get to move back to Colorado or find someone to grow old with. It brings back the reality that life is truly short and that you have to make the most of each day, even if you are not living the life you really want to live.
I was riding in the car recently with my kids and we started singing along to a song on the radio. You've probably heard it - "If I die young, bury me in satin, lay me down in a bed of roses . . ."
It's a pretty song and the kids really like the melody. Ella likes it because a girl sings it. Anyway - after the song was over Jack said "Mom, dying sounds kind of scary." Now, I didn't realize that he'd been listening to the song so closely - so we ended up having a whole discussion about death and dying and what happens after you die. Pretty heavy conversation for a ride in the minivan, but sometimes that's where the kids and I have our deepest and most profound discussions.
Final thoughts for tonight: Enjoy life. Love the ones you're with even with they're driving you crazy. Try to find bright spots of joy even on the worst days.
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