Tag: ethics

When We Simply Stop Caring.

I see it all around me.

Burnout. To be burnt.

When we simplyΒ stop caring.

Most ofΒ the time weΒ don’tΒ even need
to say anything.
ButΒ you know.
You hear it in ourΒ voice.
You see it in ourΒ eyes.
And you feel it too.
You know what
is going through our
mindΒ with each wayward glance.

IsΒ this whatΒ I signed up for?
Is this all this profession hasΒ to offer?Β 

BecauseΒ I haveΒ seenΒ the articles.
To prevent physician burnout.
The A-B-C’s.
Changes we must make.
Limiting expectations.Β 
Self-empowerment.
Decreased hours.Β 
Putting usΒ first.

I too used to be desperate.

What isΒ happeningΒ to me?
What is happening to my colleagues?

WhatΒ isΒ happeningΒ to medicine?

ButΒ then one day,Β I saw you.

You.

Not you the patient.
You the person.
You’re just
a person.
You are me.
And you are hurting.
And maybe I am too, although
youΒ mayΒ never know.

So I thank you for being here.

Not only do I wantΒ youΒ to knowΒ that
I honor the privilegeΒ ofΒ being able to
helpΒ you,Β but you should knowΒ that
youΒ have in yourΒ own way
takenΒ careΒ of me.

And I do care for you.

β€’

β—Š A Physician’sΒ PleaΒ β—Š

The Tragedy Behind a Poem.

We did it. We took it out.

Slowly, the oxygen saturationΒ dropped.
Gradually, the alarms sounded.
Insisting. Imploring us to do something.
We turned them off.
Made him comfortable.
But we knew weΒ couldn’t hide the truth.

We were letting him suffocate.

~Β Β Β Β  ~Β Β Β  Β ~

A lucid man.
A failing lung. A decision made.
A breathing tube placed—just temporarily—
until the lungs healed.
Until they got stronger. Until he got stronger.
But I saw the regret the moment it was inserted.
Nevertheless. We agreed to give it a chance.

But days passed. Then weeks.
No improvement.
Being alert, he communicated with us well.
Through his writing, I got to know him well.
His adventures. His best memory. HisΒ regrets in life.
He was a good man.

But a man who never desired to live like this.

While the family disputed on what course of action to take next,
he remained calm and unwavering.

“Please let me go.” was what he would say.

Then finally the moment came.

The time to say goodbye.

~Β Β Β Β  ~Β Β Β  Β ~

That day, I let myself weep during rounds.
In front of a crowd of stoic faces.
To weep over a friend.
To weep over a human being.
Over his courage.
An impossible decision.
The loss of a life.
Everything.

Because I didn’t want to do it. But I did.

I let go.

β€’Β Β Β Β Β  β€’Β Β Β Β Β  β€’

“To Let Go” – the poem