Life in this final month of this wild year has been appropriately chaotic (thanks norovirus!), so there isn’t sufficient headspace or time to pen a shiny, well-articulated post of reflection.

Instead, just a few thoughts that are hopefully still worth your time and consideration:

On our personal medical crises: We’ve weathered significant storms with my cancer and his spinal cord injury. We now walk forward both with deep gratitude and considerable uncertainty, mainly because his disability and recovery remain ongoing. We are marked by the fragility of our bodies, the wishy-washiness of our emotions, the profound need for deep commitment to the covenant of marriage (now I understand why we must vow before our community, for better or for worse), and the unshakable anchor – not of our faith itself (which can feel weak some days) – but the Author of that faith who continually steadies us in our roughest moments. 

On bedside nursing: I admitted a familiar patient recently on a frantic day in our unit, and my experience that day prompted me to pen this on other platforms:

The child will never be like other children. I can count on probably one hand the number of people who truly love and delight in her. And I guess, I just figure, if I can learn to see her the way those people do, I can multiply the amount of love in her life, and divide the amount of loneliness and isolation borne by those who love her.

It seems to feel harder than ever to keep a soft heart at the bedside, particularly with respiratory season hitting hard and hospital life being as intense as always. I hope to keep fighting for the right heart, right perspective, one patient at a time. 

On broader work: My talk at the End Well Symposium last month went well, and I can’t wait to share it with you all when it’s available. We can live so isolated in our own frantic lives, but what a gift to connect with such a huge community of people determined to change our culture around End of Life care and accompanying grief. 

Networking can without doubt be a time commitment, but the investment can be so worth it when we find people who spark new life and vision, and who help share similar burdens to see change happen in healthcare and society as a whole. 

On that note, I want to end this post by sharing about one phenomenal organization that stands out to me, which is the George Mark Children’s House. The first freestanding pediatric palliative care center in the U.S., this phenomenal place gives me hope that we can move back towards more gentle, beautiful, humanizing ways of walking our littlest ones – and the people who love them – through their end of life journey. 

In life, in death, we all need more gentleness and beauty. Wishing this for all of us as we wrap up 2023 and look ahead to 2024.