..not completely forgotten. You've remembered him enough to share his story with us and get us all thinking. Maybe that was his purpose?
Unfortunately, I think there are a lot more "non-persons" out there than any of us would like to admit. At least you remembered him.
There is a passage somewhere in the Bible (don't ask me where, I stopped reading it years ago) that talks about taking care of strangers, and that by doing so, you may be caring for angels unaware. I think Anon 8:23 is correct, this may have been an angel sent to make us think. To make us remember that every single person is a human being who at some point was someone's child, someone's brother or sister, someone's father or mother, uncle or aunt, grandfather or grandmother. The loss of each person is a loss to all of us.
I'm with tbunni and Anon 8:23 ~ you remembered him, and so will all of us who have read this story ~
A few months ago, my husband was rushed to the hospital because of chest pains. While they were doing all the tests and what not on him, I mentioned to a nurse all the homeless that were loitering around the hospital grounds. (this is in Seattle) she said that they frequently get people in that need treatment and when they leave all they have on are paper garments the hospital gives them because the clothes they had on when they come in are so filthy and tattered they're thrown away. She was really sad about this and said, 'This is not what I was trained for. " I had no reply for her. But have not forgotten what she said.
So rest assure, Dr. Grumpy, there are others who do remember those that, for whatever reason, society has brushed aside.
The parable of the Good Samaritan (which may be the one tbunni is thinking about) is alive and well and living in Doc G's reminiscence. (Luke 10: 25-37 in the New Testament, as per Wikipedia. I know Doc's not a huge NT fan, but...)
As for "money better spent elsewhere", money doesn't go away. It keeps circulating. The effort we spend to help others is what keeps us human.
As a trauma surgeon, this really hit me in the feels. I also see a lot of these people, and a few stick out much like yours did. It's a memory we carry forever.
Mr. K., in Baltimore City Hospitals, dying of colon cancer. He had no one, so the nursing students adopted him. He was polite, charming, and personable.
I had to take 3 buses, at 5:30 AM, to get to my clinicals on time, at 7:30. If you were late, you were locked out and declared absent. 6 absents, you were out of the program. Things were stricter in 1976. One morning, on the bus, I just had this feeling, that Mr.K was gone. When I got to the floor, his bed was empty..
We were training for ACLS the other day. I'd never gone through the training in my 30 years, but the opportunity came up and I went for it and am now certified. I attended many CODEs on the night shift carrying up the drug box.
There's a part in the AHA class where we go over the time to say goodbye, and the actors were very realistic. While I was thinking of that vignette, I suddenly remembered a patient in CCU, elderly, had been on the unit several days and then the CODE was called, and we were up there a good while. There was no one to call and let them know their loved one was passing on, and in the moment, Faith who was on duty that night, started singing 'Amazing Grace' as the CODE was called. I happen to believe that it was heard in the transition.
I started out 30 year ago with an idea of why I should do this, and 30 years later, I know the people that I am doing this for.
Thank you, Dr. G. for having a heart and remembering the man with kindness. And thanks for giving others the chance to express their own hearts by sharing your story.
He was one month and one day younger than me. I was the young pharmacist responsible for organising chemotherapy for the whole hospital.
I followed his progress over the years, from his initial diagnosis of acute leukaemia, through remission and relapse, second and third line treatment, to eventual palliation.
This very thing just happened here in San Diego County. Luckily the person was heard before the compactor engaged. He or she walked off before anyone could be summoned to help.
Thank you to you and to all of the commenters - this story is a concrete example of a lot of thoughts that have been bothering me, and the comments help put it into perspective. And now I will remember him, too.
Not in the medical profession. (couldn't handle it.) I follow your blog for the humor and the history lessons.
Every now and then you throw in a story like this which shows us that you are not your average a run of the mill yak herder and I don't think you learned this in med school either.
I spent some time in ICU as a patient. ICU doctors and nurses see a lot of death, so naturally they become accustomed to it. Otherwise, they couldn't keep doing it. ICU nurses often seem more severe than others, but I'm sure they never stop caring about their patients and remembering the unusual or especially tragic cases.
He was scheduled to discharge to the nursing home that day. Totally stable, only stayed one more night due to when the home had an opening. The nursing assistant went into do vitals. We coded him for 30-45 minutes. The only family to call was a great niece.
Those of us who work/have worked as a front-line health care provider all have one that we will never forget. Mine was a teen-aged girl
put into foster care so that she could receive hemodialysis in a city with tertiary-care hospitals. She was from a rural first nations community. I still remember her accosting me in the mall at the kidney health information booth she was manning, and gently teasing me for not stopping.
She died, in hospital a few months later. All of the renal unit staff and physicians were in tears; she was such a gentle kind sole. What still brings me to tears is the image I hold of her foster mom comforting her birth mother. You see, no one knew her birth mother because all of their interactions were with her foster mom. As the girls' health declined, the foster mom reached out to her birth mom and arranged for her to travel to the city to be with her daughter when she died. But she sat alone on a bench in the renal unit waiting area because no one else knew who she was. Until the foster mom came to comfort her. I came upon them, sitting together, with their arms wrapped around each other, comforting each other in their grief.
Still brings me to tears every time I think of it. Because the birth mom was native and poor and the foster mom was a well-educated and middle-class. And together, they both lost a daughter.
I have one homeless man I won't forget. Young, blond, full of happiness. I often would take him a hamburger for dinner. He got an infection in one foot, and when they let him out, he returned to his doorway. He lasted about two years. I remember his good cheer,. He refused to go to a shelter, he didn't want help, and he always smiled.
As a young man I would ride the tubes into Manhattan in the company of my father, we would walk from the Christopher Street station to our respective workplaces. Christopher Street was the home of the Stonewall Inn and was no where as gentile as it is today. On the Streets in that area were many young homeless men, they were Gay and had been displaced from their homes because of it. Kicked out, disowned. My father who was a hard man, would always have a heavy pocket of change that he would dole out on our way down the street. I thought about that for years, here was a guy that sometimes put in 80 hours a week to feed his 9 children and yet he would always have some spare change . Once I asked him why he did that. He simply said, There but for the Grace. I follow he lead to this day and when my children asked why, I repeat There but for the Grace. Thank you for defining humanity.
Thanks, Dr Ibee. I have cared for some patients and clients with immeasurably sad life stories and circumstances. It is always possible to choose to be kind, even if only for a few moments or an hour. A smile to someone who on the sidewalk alone, giving a cup of coffee or a small gift card to local fast food places, a conversation face to face with some eye contact and a willing offer of your hand to shake..all of these have dignity in them, and can give a person a little bit of hope, a bit of connection to other people, and maybe a reason to try again to trust, or care for yourself, or to reach out for help and accept it when it is offered.
Knew of a family that had lost 2 uncles to alcoholism, and almost the last surviving uncle - serious alcoholic who passed out drunk into a large snowbank in a blizzard...came to as the dump truck turned into the park where the all the snow would be dumped into the harbor. Luckily someone heard him scream, and stopped the truck. Never took another drink. Family did not even know he was back in town until the ER called his sister. He knew a second chance when he got one. 22 years longer, sober, and often as happy go lucky as a kid. Never a bad word about anybody.
As a neurologist (pedi) my least favorite part of the job is getting consulted for prognosis or a brain death exam. Often we are asked to express to a family ust how little hope there is of a meaningful recovery. I am also so exhausted and infurated by abusive head traumas. Unrelated to those my toughest paitent so far was a young child who suffered an internal decapitation (rear facing car seats till 4 are a good idea). The mother really really wanted us to declare brain death but I couldn't; there were pupils. She couldn't bring herself to withdraw care. While I generally really dislike having to force the withdrawl of care this was one instance where I wish I could have been the "bad guy" and take the burden off of her as she even hinted that is what she wanted.
Oh, Dr Grumpy.... that's a very sad story , beautifully and evocatively told. Thank you for sharing it with us. That poor man. Thank you for trying, and caring.
I've got one, a cystic fibrosis (cf) patient. Nearly young enough to be my child, which is how he first stick in my head. Always polite! At four AM, I'm waking him to do treatments, and he apologizes for 'making' work for me. I told him don't ever apologize for that. We're here all night anyways, and you're polite, and smart enough to never refuse treatment, which many cf pts do. I told him we will always help him, and gladly. I was off for my MIL's funeral, but he was declining, and went on continuous non-intubated ventilation (smart enough to sign papers to refuse intubation and resuscitation earlier on). He was fine during the week I was out. It's for years later, and him apologizing is still clear as a recording. I'll never forget him, which is one of the best tributes there is.
I’ve read your blog for years. Non medical but appreciate everything you write. This one really got to me. Thank you for sharing his story. You remember him, and that matters.
My eldest brother was bipolar and homeless. We looked for him for years...I'd go to homeless shelters and my sister would play sleuth on the internet. We found him one day with a head injury and missing part of a leg in a hole in the wall nursing home. He had been there for 7 years unbeknownst to us. We moved him to a better nursing home and visited 3-4 times a week for the next 2 years before he passed away. I always wondered what the nursing home staff thought of his family, why we didn't come in. He was sitting right there in his wheelchair while we were totally clueless looking for him. I'm glad we had our time with him but sad we didn't get there sooner.
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Note: I do not answer medical questions. If you are having a medical issue, see your own doctor. For all you know I'm really a Mongolian yak herder and have no medical training at all except in issues regarding the care and feeding of Mongolian yaks.