I think about my mom; I think about her when she was happy and healthy. I think about her being the happiest being a mom. I think about her on vacations, smiling and laughing.
I think about my mom; I think about her scheduled colonoscopy. I think about her fear to know the results. I think about the fear being so overwhelming that she cancelled the colonoscopy.
I think about my mom; I think about her regret three years later after being diagnosed with colon cancer. I think about how much she blamed herself. I think about the guilt she felt.
I think about my mom; days before her death, surrounded by her family. I think about my conversations with her; her favorite memories, what she loved about her kids and what she will miss about her kids.
I think about my mom; I think about the peace she felt towards the end. I think about her acceptance of the unacceptable. I think about her strength and her bravery.
I think about my mom, every time I see a patient, I think about my mom. I think about the things that make them happy, the fear they have about test results, about their favorite memories, about their kids, and I think about what gives them peace.
I think about my mom, every time I see a patient, I think about my mom. I think about how their needs, just like my mom’s, are beyond curing their illness. I think about their need for someone to just listen, to show empathy.
I think about my mom.
