The practice of care
Even the short visits that I make to the Oncology and Stem Cell Tranplant floors every day induce minor pangs of anxiety, that I've figured out isn't all necessarily due to having to harangle nurses into compliance for our study. It's the pain, the anguish, the small inkling of hope that slowly fades, all of which can be seen by looking at a family member or friend of anyone who is unfortunately staying in one of the 40 beds on this ward. 40 beds, 40 real people, 40 personal stories of the journey to, through, and hopefully away from illness.But in the midst of all this sadness, I remember that there is unbounded, limitless goodness as well. It's not only in the hands of practitioners, but also in the seemingly small acts of sentiment: cards, flowers, even so little as a smile and a "good morning". Because it is; every morning is a good morning when realize we have the previous day to look back upon and the next one to look forward to.
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