Today, I treated a laceration above your eye, a painful reminder of an assault. As I carefully stitched the wound with two layers of sutures, I reassured you that the scar would likely blend into the natural line of your eyebrow. I helped you apply foundation on your neck to mask the bruises from where you were choked. I kept a close watch for any swelling that might threaten your airway and discreetly provided you with a list of local shelters and hotlines, slipping it into your shoe.
Repeatedly, I offered to call the police on your behalf. I voiced my fears about what might happen next time if you returned home. Today, I managed your external injuries. But tomorrow, the deeper wounds—both seen and unseen—could lead to our failure to protect you.
You came to see me today, alone and faint after working a shift at the nearby cinema. As a college student far from your family, you faced the daunting news of concerning bloodwork indicating cancer. I can only hope you truly absorbed the gravity of needing a blood transfusion and possibly a bone marrow transplant. You asked for an excuse note for your physics exam tomorrow; that might be the only note I can issue for you. Today, I diagnosed you and initiated potentially lifesaving treatment. But if chemotherapy leads to complications tomorrow, we may fail you again.
In another case, I discussed dietary management for your type 2 diabetes with you. It turns out, you were already well-informed. When you arrived at the emergency room with dangerously high blood sugar, blurred vision, and dizziness, I learned that your insulin costs over $1,000 a month. As a retired senior on a fixed income, you’ve had to “get creative” with your medication. You explained how you stretch a week’s supply of insulin to last a month. “Isn’t it better than nothing?” you asked. Today, I coordinated with a social worker to secure a voucher for a month’s supply of insulin. But if you continue to ration your medications and face serious complications tomorrow, we may not succeed in saving you.
Today, I had to collect evidence for your sexual assault case. I meticulously took samples from various parts of your body, documenting the physical scars left behind. I provided medications to prevent unwanted pregnancy and the transmission of HIV. I assured you that this was not your fault and allowed you to shower, perhaps as a way to cleanse away the shame and vulnerability you felt. I comforted you and dressed you in clean clothes. Tomorrow, I will stand by you in court as a witness for you and others who have faced similar horrors. But if the memories haunt you, keeping you from restful sleep, we may ultimately fail you.
In a different scenario, I changed your diaper and sang nursery rhymes while feeding you scrambled eggs. I read our favorite story, repeating how much I love you. Today, I was your mother, and I’ll continue to fight every day to ensure that no one else has to endure what you have.
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Summary
This piece highlights the daily struggles faced by patients in vulnerable situations and emphasizes the vital role healthcare providers play in their lives. Through a series of poignant encounters, the author illustrates the challenges of addressing both physical and emotional traumas, advocating for healthcare reform to ensure that no one suffers alone.