always a nurse

yesterday, as cole and i were leaving a local coffee shop, i waited at the door for an elderly man who seemed to be wanting to come inside.  instead he asked me what time the locale was open until and if i knew whether or not they served for dinner - he was inquiring for his son he was caring for.  without questioning, the man kind of unloaded on cole and me.  somehow he mentioned the name of the place he is living (which is affiliated with scca and thus, all of my patients) and so i said, "oh, i'm a nurse.  i wonder if your son is one of my patients."  i guess i'm always a nurse.  when people look dead on a sidewalk or just when an old man needs a shoulder to lean on and ear to listen.  poor man.  he explained his story.  he (at 80 years old) is the only caregiver for his son who has had a bone marrow transplant that has seemed to fail.  he used interesting words - layman's words - like "they keep killing him with chemo."  and when i acknowledged the stress he must be under, he said with tears in his throat, "sometimes i just want to run away.  but i'm his dad.  i'm his only person."  after chatting for at least 10 minutes, cole and i found an escape.  i almost wanted to invite the man over for dinner.  but instead we wished him well.  as we parted, he thanked me for all that i do.  he was genuine.  it was kind.  and sincere.  and it wasn't but 10 steps before i burst into tears.  "everyone i'm surrounded by is so sad," i said into cole's chest.  "life is so unfair for so many people."  no father should watch his son dying.

thank god for vacation.  and trips to guatemala.

i'm out.