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How Can I Ever Forgive Myself?

Anonymous

Prose
In my medical training I saw many patients, but only one encounter particularly remains lodged in my memory. This patient was a woman, who entered the room looking highly distracted with huge swollen eyes and tear stained cheeks. The GP asked after her health and she replied she was fine, except that she was unable to get any sleep, as she had a “weight” on her shoulders. This “weight” she then described to the doctor and I in full.

She started her story by talking of her marriage day which she said was “the happiest day of my life,” and she described how wonderful she thought her husband was. Several months with living together however, she discovered her partner had developed very severe depression which was causing a great deal of friction in their marriage. She had desperately urged him to seek help, but he refused and this lead to a break down in their relationship. She explained how they had had a huge argument yesterday morning and that he had driven off furious. She had thought nothing of it until she received a phone call from him on her mobile where he explained that he was pumping carbon monoxide gas into his car and that he had given up the will to live. Distraught, she begged him to tell her where he was but he would only talk about the poison taking over his body. He described how his vision was becoming increasingly blurred and that he was incredibly dizzy. Despite this, he still gathered the strength to tell her that one of the reasons he was killing himself was that he could not stand her anymore. Devastated, she still begged him to tell her where he was, and in the end she found out. However, in her flustered state, she took a wrong turning to reach him and was minutes too late.

At this point in the consultation, she looked right up at me, and said “how can I ever forgive myself?” I will never remember her look of grief and sadness that seemed to take over her. She looked like a shell of a person that once was, so weakened by grief that her spirit had left. I became very uncomfortable with her staring eyes, as I felt so useless in helping her. The G.P., had endless words of advice and could really assist her through the pain she was feeling. I left the practice that day with one more reason as to why I wanted to become a Dr. You are able to connect with people, at some of the most emotional times of their lives. To be able to help them, at these times, would be so rewarding. I knew then I had made the right choice in selecting medicine as a career.

When I first heard about the exercise I thought it would be difficult to write something, as I have never been particularly good at writing. I could not decide what I wanted to write about as I felt there was such a great deal of choice. I knew I did not want to draw anything, as my artistic skills are poor, but in writing I thought I could express myself more clearly. I was surprised at how easy the words seemed to flow once I had decided upon a theme. The woman had had a profound affect upon me, and as soon as I remembered that encounter it made sense for me to choose it for this assessment. As soon as I began writing, I could barely stop as there just seemed to be so much I could say.
Whole Person Care – Year One