Rubbing shoulders

Practicing medicine, on any level, means that you press up against mortality. Invariably your own mortality. What we do often merely staves off death. Sometimes in the long term. Sometimes in the very short term. I've heard people mention this before, but it's only recently that I'm beginning to understand it on a personal level.

An attempt to save a life, to care for another, is to acknowledge the brevity of that life. And the ultimate fragility. No matter what "salty dogs" may say, this...is....hard! It is perhaps easier for those of us in prehospital care. We see our patients for a brief window of time, often don't get to know them on a personal level, and their care is passed off to someone else. The tragedy comes from circumstance, the sadness of a situation. For those healthcare providers who spend more time with patients, I believe the cut of death becomes deeper. It is an emotional connection being lost as well. 

It's not just a patient that one is connected to dying that is hard though. That event forces us to acknowledge that no matter what we do, it is a temporary extension of the inevitable. 

Recently, I've moved further in probing these feelings. It's hard, it sucks....and it's also a great honor to be in that position. As with many things, polar opposites highlight each other. Exposure to death gives me more beauty in my personal life. It is an opportunity to slow down, and appreciate all the things around me that I love and enjoy. That I believe is one of the great gifts of medicine. We see the unfair suffering, sudden and chaotic passings and the slow fadings away. But in exchange we are forever reminded of how beautiful each breath we take is, and how important it is to savor the life around us.