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Metaphors and Medicine (Year II): Chapter 4

On Palliative Care: Part 2


My attending tended to Mom, listened to her. It changed the meaning of “comforting someone.” Palliative is less doing and more being. He was present with her, and said less, did less. Stood, listened, tilted his head in a way to show her he was listening. She pulled her phone out and showed him a video of her daughter singing. She was beautiful, I thought. But then again, who wasn’t? .


We walked into her room, and my eyes were drawn to the four walls around us. There was her story thrown all across the walls in the form of photos of her with her friends and family, cards with written notes inside of them, posters from the teams she was on. There was her story, and you could read it wall by wall. Finally, my eyes rested on the center of the room where she was lying very differently than in her photos or video.


Up until this week, I had seen children with complex histories of chronic illness and developmental issues. They and their parents had accepted their life of strife. They had the chance to turn their life into a journey about living instead of surviving, focused on how to live next instead of awaiting their inevitable separation. And I saw hope in this. I met parents who turned their pain into a determination to make this something greater than it was. I met parents who knew enough medical knowledge about their child’s condition that they were truly their child’s advocates. I met a parent who was losing his second child to the same condition that took his first, and he was designing a course on resilience for his high school students. “They think what they’re experiencing is the worst thing, so I want them to be stronger. I’ve gotta do something with all this, you know,” he had said with a laugh.


She had been at school, doing what she did every day. She probably said “see you later,” to her parents. Maybe she had plans with friends after school, a test to study for, another college application to submit. But instead of doing those things, she was struck by a vehicle that landed her on our floor looking very different from the girl whose smiles were now all over the walls of her room.

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