beet jucie

my fingertips and tongue are  deep red.  covered in the juice of beets.  i love beets. they're so earthy, natural. they need nothing.  they hold their own.  that dirty-earthy taste after being baked.  it's enough. it stands alone.  not much we eat is like that- so i love beets for their ability to just be - good as they are.

i went to Mr. A's house today. my patient who is dying of liver cancer.  it was about 45 minutes away. i went to see him and maybe to say goodbye.  he lives in the basement that he built- it has a wall of a kitchen, a giant TV and a small bathroom.  it has his hospital bed and his bookcases with books and dvds and a gold watch and his medications in shoe boxes.  i had to ask what "sex= aspirin" meant- it was scribbled on a box.  (it means that box has viagra and aspirin, or after sex he needs an aspirin- they said laughing). 

i arrived to a room full of visitors smoking pall malls.  he was smoking pall malls too.  everyone was overweight with thick southern accents and they all shared a deep love for this man.  they were all committed to him, thankful for him, and valued him. he was their 'pawpaw'. i loved it.  i felt privileged to be there- in their presence- sharing in this with them.

his hair dresser came for a visit while i was there.  she told me her story.  her husband had left her after 30 years. he went to work one day and never came back.  like country song lyrics. Mr. A was going to ride the 'trail of tears' on his harley with his friends and didn't have anyone to ride on back.  you have to love this - this culture of motorcylcing-leather dressing, harley men with their women on the back of their bikes.  she was offered a spot on his bike and said yes.  she tells that he showed up to get her, long white hair and beard, head to toe in leather, and she thought, "what have i done?" but, she said, he was a perfect gentlemen.  they were together all week- night and and day, and he was a perfect gentlemen.  they've been friends ever since.  what a great story about his man.  and as she told it, he had a giant smile on his sleepy face. 

we talked for a while- about his symptoms and about life and marriage and family.  i examined him and found him full of fluid and short of breath- but mentally clear and not jaundice (yellow) which was good.  we reviewed his medications and what he should and should not be taking and what he could take if he needed it.  then i realized i'd been there for almost 2 hours.  i needed to go.  there were so many people in the room, we hadn't talked about death.  we hadn't talked about his nearing the end of this life.  we hadn't talked about his cruise next week. 

i went to my car and found 3 of his family and good friends- they asked me how much time he had.  they asked me if he could really go on a cruise next week. they asked me if he was going to get better.

no.  i told them.  no- he most likely can't go on the cruise next week.  no he is not going to get better and i think he has weeks left.  they knew this.  but they were worried that he didn't know this.  so i took off my coat and when back inside.

we talked for another 20 minutes about his plans for the end of his life.  about listening not just to his mind and his heart but also to his body.  that even though he wants so badly to be on that cruise- that maybe we should admit that it's not just the loss of the cruise he's grieving , but also the end of his life. that not going- is admitting that he's dying. and that is terribly painful.  but we need to be honest.  i promised him long ago that i would tell him the truth and the truth is that he's at the end of a life well lived- at least a life that has resulted in  him- surrounded by friends and family that can't say enough about him- his love, his care, his provision.

i gave him a huge hug good bye.  i so hope it's not the last.  he has a book for me-it's a book he's told me about for a while now.  a book about practicing medicine in the woods of appalachia- a book about knowing what herbs and roots and barks are good for things.  what a treasure that will be.  it will join my treasury of 'grateful patient gifts'- they compromise: an asian bangle from a young cracked out patient when i was a medical student and that was all she had; a harley davidson bandanna from an older vet who took it off his head and told me to," wear it as a bikini top"; a rind stone tiara from a wild older woman who was going blind; a hand made fertility necklace from a patient who knew i was trying to conceive at the time; a box of almonds from a patient who i'd given almonds to when he'd missed lunch; and several hand scratched notes of thanks.  these are the people i love to work with.  people who share themselves.  who's gifts are representations of our connection. there is meaning there.  value.  depth.

so i drove home with a tear in my eye for my friend and patient Mr. A. thankful for him, for his family, for the fact that our differences don't really matter.  our worlds which would never normally meet- have met- and we've each grown from that. and thankful for all the patients that are like this. beet like- salt of the earth. original and true. just as they are.