We humans tell stories in our attempt to make sense of our lives. Some stories are told directly, while others have their meanings concealed behind the words that we use. I love this poem, as it resonates in harmony with my own experience of life.
How Was Clinic?
They reminded me of your parents
but better dressed, my wife Jessica said
as she described a patient and her husband
she has seen in the clinic that day – a patient
with metastatic breast cancer on her way to hospice
but still asking Jessica about her life and family –
by which she meant, I think,
that they must have been wearing something
more dignified than 20-year-old-hand-me-down
skateboarding T-shirts from their son,
by which she meant, I think,
that they valued quality of life over quantity,
having seen what happened to their own parents
as they lived into the nineties,
by which she meant, I think,
that they were vulnerable in the same way
my parents were becoming vulnerable,
by which she meant, I think,
that she loved my parents
even though she was embarrassed they wore
faded Green Day shirts to fancy restaurants,
by which she meant, I think,
that she would be there for them
as they welcomed their end,
and for me.
- Matthew J. Farrell
Medico Musings 