love actually

yesterday i saw Mr. A again in clinic. my patient and friend with liver cancer.  i didn't know he was coming in and was so happy to see him.  he looked good, but his eyes didn't sparkle. and that made me sad.  he looked deep in thought and in his pensivity he'd lost his twinkle.  he looked consumed- by all that is going on in him, with him, his body, his spirit, his soul.  it is a lot to process.  despite this, he is surrounded by so much love- he lives in the house of his old friend and hairdresser- (the one who rode on his motorcycle)  and she cares so much for him. his daughter and son-in-law are with him constantly, they never miss an appointment, or a medication, they help him to the bathroom, and into the shower. and he has friends that have known him for years- who value him and aren't afraid to show him, especially as he nears the end.
and it's beautiful but it's not pretty.

it reminded me of the movie 'love actually'. now that is a great movie.  it's many love stories woven together, some unrequited- some acknowledged.  it's about finding love, holding on to love, loving from a distance, s, loving even when it's not returned or can never be returned, and it's about sometimes letting go of love too. in the movies love is sexy and beautiful and well dressed and well scented- but real love between real people is rarely that- often love is overweight and unattractive, to everyone except the beholder.  the beauty of love, is that it goes deeper than the senses- it's a soul thing- it's an alive thing- it grows.  and sometimes it's unexplained, it's not logical, it doesn't make sense- but there it is- it's love.

i see it all the time with my patients.  in illness, which is never sexy or beautiful and usually smells bad and involves hospital gowns- there you see sometimes the deepest love coming out. you see it in the way someone cares for someone else.  the time they spend.  the hours they wait.  the little things they help with.  gentleness. patience.  holding a hand.  sometimes love is expressed in what is said, or not said.

when i did my first home visit with Mr. A- i remember seeing the acute differences between us- he lived in the basement of a house out in the country- the room was filled with  people chain-smoking pall malls- eating dunkin' donuts and watching horror films on a big screen tv (i HATE horror films). but when i sat down and began to listen and to observe-  i saw the similarities. i saw the love. what a uniting force. we are all cared for - by someone- we all love someone- it is part of being human. 

and when you look you also see that there is so much beauty in each person- although you might not see it at first glance in the waiting room. although it's not brad pitt or clooney- it's in someones eyes- their hands that have been worn smooth- it's their story- their sacrifice-it's how they love- or how they've been loved.

when Mr. A and his family left i told him that i know he's tired and worn out.  i told him i would call and check in next week and that the next visit could be at their home.  he thanked me, and i thanked him- but i told him  i wanted to see that sparkle again.  he knew what i meant, i gave him a hug in his wheelchair- and he looked up at me with that twinkle- "be good" he said.