Tag: End of Life
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One chaplain’s journey: Teaching, hospice, and humanities
Terry McIntyreForest Park, Illinois, United States Auburn University was an easy choice for a graduate student with two preschool youngsters. Teaching medieval literature was the draw. Later, a divorce necessitated working as a project manager in sub-contracting. When the Lutheran campus pastor in Ann Arbor wanted me on the property committee, I declined. Instead, I…
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Gulliver at Luggnagg — Learning about the immortal struldbrugs (abridged)
The Luggnaggians are a polite and generous people . . . they show themselves courteous to strangers. One day . . . I was asked by a person of quality, “whether I had seen any of their struldbrugs, or immortals?” . . . He told me “that sometimes, though very rarely, a child happened to…
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Great expectations
Anthony PapagiannisThessaloniki, Greece “Doctor, I want you to treat her as a forty-year old!” What is the appropriate answer to a demand like that from a daughter about the treatment of her eighty-eight-year-old mother? Any suggestion that her mother might not do well even with the best treatment in the world is anathema to her.…
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Tracing wisps of hair
Miriam RosenPittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States My mother was diagnosed with cancer when I was fourteen. For the next nine years, she lived her life with elegance and seemed to do it with ease. She continued her psychiatry practice, only gradually reducing the number of patients she saw. She read the New York Times cover to…
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An unseen border
T.Y. EulianoGainesville, Florida, United States “Please let me have the chest pain in 3,” I said. “I can’t take any more whiny kids today.” Clare raised an eyebrow. “You can have the next trauma.” “Two traumas,” she said. “I can’t stand any more whiny parents.” “Deal.” She wrote my initials by Room 3. “Remind me…
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The African Savannah
Steve AblonChestnut Hill, Massachusetts Forty years ago, my fatherwore his safari hat, squintedthrough binoculars, told us thosegiraffes, the dark ones, are older,and soon will not be able to outrunlions or will break a leg, be eaten.That is the cycle of life he said.Now he needs a walker. My teacherbroke her hip, my colleague torehis anterior…
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Me, my father, and the angels
Hope AtlasLivingston, New Jersey, United States The handle of the dresser drawer talks to my father while he sits in bedWhenever he likes he can conjure up the face of the dresser drawerwith its pointy ears, droopy mouth and metal earringsThe angels are comingHe laughs, pointing at the dresser drawerThey are singing, “It’s time to…
