The burden of dying

I discharged a 20 year old patient of mine from the hospital a few weeks ago.  He's the second college aged kid I've cared for with a malignant brain tumor.  T passed away in March after a 4 year fight.  T's tumor was operable, thank goodness, so we were able to buy him some good time.  K's unfortunately isn't.  His recent stay was for a complication of his cancer, and he required 2 major surgeries. It was really awful.

At one point during K's recovery, he looked like a beaten kid.  He was exhausted.  I asked him how he was doing, and he curtly said "Fine".  I said "No you're not.  I wouldn't be either".  After I checked him over, his mom followed me out of the room.   She asked me a few questions, and went back in to be with her son.  She was smiling, engaging, uncomfortably upbeat.  Throughout his stay, she didn't show a single crack in her emotional foundation.  Her matter of fact approach to her son's illness has made me realize that she hadn't had the opportunity to wrap her emotions around what her son was going through.  She needed to be strong for him, even when he wasn't.

T was the first young person I had ever diagnosed with cancer.  I remember the night I diagnosed him like it was yesterday.  Each experience he and his family went through was a new experience for me as well.  It was a privilege to watch him battle.  He was beyond inspirational. Out of all those experiences, the most surprising was how T's mom responded to her son's illness.  Even when he was done fighting, she kept him going.  It was an amazing thing to watch.   The last time I saw him, he said, "I'll see you again, don't worry".  His eyes said something different.

You could see the burden on him.   He knew his days were numbered.  As much as he wanted to wave the white flag, he couldn't, because his mom wouldn't let him.  Her ability to fight for her child was the most instinctual thing I've ever witnessed.  It came from the depths of her DNA.  This ability, to fight till the end for her child, had to be unbelievably difficult on her.  I can't imagine either of their burdens.

K hasn't stopped fighting.  But when he does, I don't think he's going to have the heart to ask him mom to stop fighting.  T couldn't.  T's love for his mom allowed him to carry her burden as well as his own.  Who knows how many other people's burdens he put on his broad shoulders?  Maybe his ability to carry the extra weight was also buried somewhere deep in his code.  Then again, maybe it came from above.  Either way, he carried the weight with incredible dignity.

Being part of these kids lives has given me such an appreciation for the strength of our bonds to one another.  Keep both of these families in your prayers.