Facing a patient with terminal illness

The emotion felt by a terminally ill patient, the grief and despair, is a totally unique emotion. It is so raw, so vulnerable, so personal.

As a medical student, facing such emotions, I felt almost like an intruder. The patient is expressing his depair to his doctor, and I'm standing, stony-faced, behind the doctor, holding my breath. Of course, I'm here at the hospital to observe and learn. But in such an instance, I felt intrusive. It is as if I'm a journalist, a TV camera, zooming in and examining with excruciating clarity each sob, each tear, each word. My presence as an empirical, scientific observer, somehow offends the personal, emotional and delicate scene before me. I felt as if I was a ton of bricks, dumped upon a field of delicate daisies.

As intrusive as I felt, I could not physically move myself. I remained, statue-like, obtrusive and self-conscious. I had no encouraging words to offer. Cursed with a totally honest nature, I could not conjure up soothing words or comforting sounds to fit with a situation where I myself was not comfortable. I listened to the doctor make her encouraging remarks, my fellow med students coo softly and offer tissues, but I could do little else but stand there like an idiot. Hit with the scene before me, I could not remain emotionally untouched - I was grieved for the patient, for his pain, his despair, but also my own inadequecy in finding the right words. My fellow students and the doctors seemed to be able to remain untouched; they could offer their words or actions of comfort, and move on. I, on the other hand, was immobalised during the whole ordeal, and can not get the image of the weeping old man out of my head.

I think, it is fair to say, that this experience has upset me. Just a little.