Appreciated

Mr Richardson has cancer. He came to us with a history of weight loss and these funny-looking growths under the skin. You don’t need to be a doctor to figure out this diagnosis. We haven’t really done all that much for him other than confirm our suspicions and break the terrible news. He’s been with us for a couple of weeks now, not because he is acutely unwell but because he’s too weak to be safely discharged to his home. The physios are working with him to try and help him build up his strength so that he can walk again, and the occupational therapists are sorting out a whole host of gadgets for his home to help him cope, but in reality they’re probably fighting a losing battle as he grows weaker by the day.

As we approach his bed on our daily ward round, he greets us with a welcoming smile. “Hello Mr Richardson, how are you today?” asks our registrar? “I’m fine doc, thanks for asking,” he replies warmly. A quick glance at the obs chart and review of the nursing notes is all we need to see, and I am happy to record in the notes “patient well, obs stable, plan: discharge planning, medically fit”. He shows us a picture that sits on his bedside cabinet of two smiling children in school uniform. “These are my grandchildren, doc, Lucy is 8 and Tom is 15. They’ll be coming to visit this afternoon and I would love for you to meet them so that I can show them the people who are looking after me so fantastically whilst I’m here”. We all blush, not sure what to say, and the registrar mumbles a word of thanks for his kind words. As we turn to leave his bedside and pull back the curtains, he speaks again. “I mean it you know. You’ve all been so kind to me and I can’t thank you enough for everything that you’re doing.” Tears well up in his eyes and he turns away, not wanting us to see him cry. We oblige, smile, mutter some more and quickly move on. However his kind words have had an effect on us all. We don’t deserve to be thanked, we haven’t really done anything. But it is nice nonetheless to be appreciated and I think that we all have him in our thoughts as we continue to fight through the remainder of the ward round.

Later on that day, at visiting time, I make sure that I take a couple of minutes to visit Mr Richardson and his family. It’s the least I can do for him. I just wish we could offer him more.

(needless to say, all patient details in this post have been amended to a point where everything is completely anonymous)