52 years ago he used to surf in Ensenada on a "medium" board. I asked what that meant and chuckled through my mask. It was a 9'6. More chuckle.
He laughed with his denture missing forming the cutest smile. "You make me feel better", he paced back and forth in a noisy room with a negative pressure machine making it impossible to hear anything. I crank up the volume on TV and pull up a chair. "Will you watch it with me or do you have to go, my devotcka?" I took off my glove and held his hand. And we sat there. He told me about reincarnation and angels when he had cancer cut out of his head. " There is only heaven. That's where we will go". And for a moment between running from one task to another, his baby blue eyes gave me hope. Hope that I have a reason, that we all have a reason. Hope that the wisdom of the world will prevail.
I didn't give him miracle medicine but after sitting next to him his heart started beating normal again. He stretched his hands towards me and for the first time in 6 months I got to hug my patient.
I know I won't see him again but he will live in my heart forever.
They say nurses are angels, but I think its the angles like him that give us wings.
