As healthcare professionals, we have the unique privilege of meeting many people throughout our careers, often at extremely vulnerable times in their lives. Some of these times are vulnerable in happiness, but more often they are vulnerable in pain, suffering, and grief.
Loss is something that every human experiences at some point in their lives. It is as ubiquitous as it is inescapable. Every day, there is a person in the world who loses a loved one.
Over the weekend, we lost one of our chronic PICU patients, mere days before her first birthday. This sweet, lovely baby girl was always a joy to visit on my days in the PICU, and even when she spent some time on our chronic complex ward I would swing by to see her before I headed home.
When you lose a patient, you are allowed to feel the grief. You are allowed to mourn. There will always be this cloying feeling of not enough that sticks to the back of your throat, but the loss that you feel is testament that your memory of them is enough. The weight in your gut is the imprint they left on your soul and it is not a symbol of failure but rather a reminder that you knew them, you cared, and that was enough.
You may not have done everything perfectly when you were taking care of them, but their mark on you should not bring you shame. It should bring you determination to care even more deeply for every patient you encounter. You will still make mistakes (you are human). Your contribution to your patientsâ lives is how you made them feel, not how many answers you got correct. When they were in pain, you did your best to comfort them; sometimes, that meant that all you could do was hold their hand so they knew they were not alone. When they were sad, you listened to them and you held their stories in your heart. And now that they are gone, you will hold their memory as a part of you forever.
2087
theartofmadeline
areudirty
titsay
jacobvanloon
