Abstract
While sitting at my patient's bedside, stroking her thinned red hair as she slept, I struggled with the reality that I could not cure her. She would die from her cancer, very soon. Confronted with the cruel truth that it is never really my doing that determines whether my patients ultimately live or die, feelings of inadequacy permeated my thoughts. Searching for some semblance of purpose in my failure, I ruminated on the events surrounding her diagnosis, her therapy, and now her final days. Nevertheless, my analytical grip gave way to the compassionate draw of this teenaged girl's story, and an overwhelming gratitude to have walked this journey with her replaced my sense of despair. Caring for her had incited a priceless transformation of my perspectives of doctoring—from the initial simplicity of diligently performing my professional duties to a now profound insight into my own beliefs about dying, about living, and about how to be a better human being. As I watched her struggle to maintain some sense of normalcy and dignity in her life, she imparted to me that my job is not to judge, but rather to meet people where they are, with respect and kindness beyond what the world may feel they deserve. With a courageous vulnerability she had disclosed to me her dreams and fears of what her future, the one with cancer in it, would ultimately hold. Through the heartache of her realization that she would not live to experience marriage or motherhood, her reconciliation with life as she had lived it thus far, and her welcoming acceptance of her life yet left to live, I had been there. All the while, despite my efforts, I watched as the disease transformed her body from that of a healthy young woman to the cachectic and fragile form that presently laid sleeping in the bed before me. Still marveling at how such a once spirited life could so passively accept its nearing end, I somberly worked my fingers into her weak grip. Waking for a moment, she looked up at me, gently smiled, grasped my hand, and thanked me. In that surreal moment, I recognized that she had not convicted me of my failure. I understood that I had not been entrusted to merely eradicate her disease, but, perhaps even more fundamental, to help alleviate the burden she bore from suffering the malady. I was honored and humbled. What an absolute privilege it had been to be invited into her life, to hold her hand through such monumental hardships, and to be asked to be present now. I realized, as her returning slumber caused her fingers to slip from their embrace with mine, that I have truly been called to lift the fallen, to restore the broken, and to comfort the hurting. I concluded that my purpose is not necessarily to cure, but to heal. The thought astounded me. As I could not find the words to say, I simply sat and watched silently as she breathed and drifted in and out of sleep. And although my focus had been on the quality of her life, I discovered that she, in turn, had revealed to me the meaning of mine. #purpose