Dr. Everlyn Perez, first-year resident in the Duke Family Medicine Residency program, wrote a very moving essay last month about managing the grief that is part of the life of a physician. It is magnified with the very human tragedies we are witness to in the stories of our patients.
As I sift through my scrapbook full of pictures of moms, dads and babies that have been a part of my career, I notice the family who proudly poses for four portraits, starting with one baby, then twins, then a fourth and final baby. It is the same family who recently announced the birth of the first grandchild and the budding musical career of another child during a visit to discuss the declining health of the grandmother, also my patient.
There is a black and white 8×10 of my first delivery after residency. Then I turn the page to see the newborn that was the first baby I delivered for a gay couple: two moms and a very involved donor dad. My hair was brown then rather than the shades of silver I currently display.
There is the picture a young boy on a toy space shuttle. I remember how nervous his mom was for her first labor. I sat with her at the bedside helping her with visualizations to divert her attention to more peaceful and calming scenes that we had discussed during her prenatal visits. The son is now an aeronautical engineer with kids of his own, and I still receive family Christmas cards from them every year.
I see a sister and brother who are part of one of my first families. I have a photo of me holding their next generation with a plaque proclaiming me as the “granddoc.” Meanwhile I still care for four generations of the family. We have grown up together.
Next is the family of three who decided to live life to its fullest, sold their home and used the money to sail for a year, young toddler in tow. They returned to the real world with a lifetime of tales to tell.
There are pictures from the graduation of a young man who is on his way to the Air Force provided to me by a mom beaming with pride. I congratulated her on a job well done.
There are water paintings and drawings from budding young artists.
That is just the tip of the iceberg. The stories keep me going. They are not all about birth and growing up. It is a privilege to be there for the beginnings but it is not all beginnings. We are often the shepherds through troubling time, as well.
I remember the nonagenarian who reminded me of my own grandmother. We traveled the journey from well to dependent to the transition to the next life. I remember her smile, her strong faith and her downright stubbornness when faced with a challenge, just like my grandmother. It was an honor to be there for her passing in peace and without pain, both sad and happy. I remember my tears.
So Dr. Perez, continue to share your stories with your colleagues and your faculty. We are with our patients for the mountain tops and the valleys. That is the “C” in continuity, we share the journey. Our presence can help them through the best of days and the worst of days. So share the joy and remember that you can be a candle in their darkest hour. You will laugh, you will cheer, you will cry, and you will be blessed.
Joyce Copeland is core faculty in the Duke Family Medicine Residency Program. Contact her at joyce.copeland@dm.duke.edu.
Editor’s note: A member of the Duke Family Medicine Residency Program leadership team guest blogs every month.