I'm a regular reader of the Cheerful Oncologist's Blog. He's chosen an emotionally difficult field in which to practice medicine, and shares inisight into his experience through his writing. I suspect that he deals well with patients who are about to embark on winter's last journey.
Finally, just as our journey reaches a pleasant equilibrium between labor and comfort, night falls in the middle of the afternoon, leaving us stranded on a distant hillside. The forest begins to envelope us as our vision dims. Perhaps we will wander on blindly until we find the bank of the river which leads us home. We must be prepared, however, to accept the coming night. With the power that comes only from within can we find the courage to rest peacefully against a fallen tree, our eyes turned upward toward the darkness as we await the first caress of snowflakes we cannot see.
http://thecheerfuloncologist.blogsome.com/2005/11/29/76/
Some oncologists of my acquaintance seem never quite able to utter words that admit defeat by a disease. Perhaps they worry that their patients will have no reason to keep fighting if they become aware the battle is already lost. I suspect however, that a caregiver's need to speak always in terms of tests, trials, treatments, and hope often comforts them more than it does a patient weary of waking each morning to the war within.
Come - take my hand and let us walk together while the falling light rolls our shadows ever longer.
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