She was 101 years old.
We hung our heads low, walked out of the room, and continued on our morning rounds. For the rest of the day, I felt an aching in my chest that I did not understand. I went about my day taking care of our very sick patients, smiling, joking… but aching. She was 101 years old. And she died on new years day 2018. I think about what this changing over of the year means to us… she had 101 of these. One-hundred and one moments of feeling hopeful for a new year. One-hundred and one moments of having loved ones wish her a lifetime of health and happiness. A human with hopes and dreams, fears and insecurities. I had spent the whole day compartmentalizing so I could get through the day taking care of our very sick patients, that I hadn’t taken a moment to consider the gravity of the end of her life. 101 years.
This morning, when I awoke, I cried for her. Ok, if I’m going to be honest, I sobbed. And I also took a deep breath for her. We are here now. Maybe we will live to 101 as well. Maybe we won’t. But let’s hope, and be damn sure, that we use every one of those hypothetical 101 years to be here. Now. Live. Be honest. Do good. Show kindness. Enjoy. All of it. Today, I will ask my team to take a moment to reflect about not just her death, but her life. Today, I hope you open your heart… to life. If for no other reason, but for her. *photo taken in California central coast January 1st, 2015.