My friend Bert.

It had been a busy morning in the hospital with surgeries, rounds, and outpatient department visits. I enjoyed the few minutes of solitude as I drove to the nursing home to see my friend Bert. He sat, slouched over, in a geriatric chair and ever so slowly sat up when I spoke to him. His expressionless face could no longer welcome me, yet his trembling hands reached out to grasp mine. I sat close to hear the faintness of his voice. He could no longer even manage a shuffling gait, and his slowness and muscular rigidity made it impossible for him to feed himself. Bert knew me not only as his doctor, but also as his friend. Some of his thoughts were disjointed and not easily understood. Medication was no longer effective, as disease was robbing this man of his personhood. For 15 minutes we sat, hand in hand, so even as his ravaged body failed him, his soul might feel the caring and love that I brought to him as life was ebbing away. From the vitality of youth, the “march of time” had caught up with Bert.