Family history?
I asked her...
mom, dad, sister, brother,
heart disease, cancer, diabetes?
I cradled the phone
in the curve of my neck.
I saw him standing there,
a distant shadow in
his familiar dark
blue Nike jacket,
but I wanted the moment
to last forever . . .
I didn't want to
hang up the phone,
because I knew it meant
saying goodbye.
He shuffled his feet,
looking downward,
"Well, Lori, this is it,
the last surgery you'll
ever have to schedule for me."
I bit my lip to
hold back the tears.
"Yes, doctor, I was
worried about getting..."
But, he cut me off as
he crossed the room and
drew me into his hug.
"I'm going to miss you,"
he searched for the right words.
I couldn't even try, because
they would never make it
past the lump in my throat.
"Thank you, sweetie~for...
everything. We've had fun."
I nodded and found my voice.
"I'll come see you!"
"I hope you will, Lori,
if Dr. R------ ever lets you
out of her office..."
"I'll sneak out,"
I winked, then I
had to turn away
and talk about other things,
anything to stop the tears.
Janni said, "Oh honey,
I should have
brought you flowers."
I told her, "I'm so glad
that you didn't. I
couldn't stand the
emotions today."
She said, "I bet
you don't want to
leave tonight."
"I don't," I whispered.
I locked the doors,
shut down the computers,
checked the autoclave,
re-arranged the charts
for the next day,
turned the radios off,
went thru my drawers,
packed up the rest of
the holiday decorations,
turned the lights out
and walked away, cringing
when the door clicked shut.
My daughter's words echoed
in my ears, "He can't retire.
Mommy, he's the first human
to ever touch me with
his hands."
His healing hands.
His healing heart.
My tears in an
empty stairwell,
then I walked alone
to a dark deserted
parking lot and drove
my van home in the
silence of memories,
the noise of tears.
Goodbye, Dr. Gibson.
You will always be the best.
You always have been.
I'll miss you too...
me and a mere
thirty thousand others
whose lives you've touched.
Your patients.
Your nurses.
Your family.
Your community.