Sometimes

Catherine Dabels

Sometimes finding the words can be down right impossible. Sometimes the experiences I have touch a part of me that is so tender, so delicate, it almost hurts.

Like a fiery arrow that finds its way into my very essence.

It could be as simple as being called back into a patient’s room where he then lays out for me the course of his illness. Details. With tears he tells me about his life as it is now.

Sometimes it’s when a patient asks us not to leave after we've completed what we've come to do. I had only met this particular patient once before. He called me back to his bedside.

Walking with Tulips (Image by Mackenzie Thorpe)

“Don’t leave,” he said. “Please.” How could I say no? He called me by my name.

These moments touch my soul and pull at the strings that connect my heart to their world.

There was once a young woman. I will never forget her. She was the sweetest thing – tiny, fair, delicate. And so very young.

She lay on her bed, buried in her blanket, as though she was protecting herself from the storm she felt coming. She was a new patient and seemed pleased enough with the images that were already hung. Despite the fact that the art was new to her I felt a pull on her behalf to a Mackenzie Thorpe print. The lightness of it seemed to suit her perfectly.

I offered her Walking With Tulips.

“I love that,” she said. “It makes me think of my children.”

“Your precious children,” was my response.

“Yes,” she replied. “ I had to say good bye to them just this morning. One is two and a half. The other four.”

It was these children’s mentioning that opened the gates of emotion.

Mine mixing with hers.

The heaviness of her situation weighed her down and she wept. I went to her and held her. She grabbed a hold of me and together we cried.

So long it has been since I wept along with a patient. But together, on this sad, hard day, we grieved. We stayed bound one to another while the tears released themselves.

Hers mixing with mine.

And then I left. The sadness of that encounter unrelenting. Still, even now, it is hard to speak of…