Lets Talk About the Art of Living and Dying
It isn’t until my patient dies that I calculate we have known each other for 10 years, the time it took for her recurrent cancer to extinguish her life. I use the word “extinguish” deliberately, for her two young children should have had her for longer. Her devoted husband sends me a peaceful photo of her from the hospice and details of her funeral. I choke – and tell myself that I have a full clinic of patients.
Read the full article in the Guardian