In the dumpster-fire that is 2020, my life is feeling increasingly like a country song. My job has been nuts - I've been in practice a little over 4 years at a large, multi-speciality group practice and am straining under the weight of practicing during a pandemic. My dad is battling t-cell lymphoma after a failed stem cell transplant which we hoped would be curative. A dear friend is battling a significant health issue. And, about 48 hours ago, my beloved buddy concluded his 14-year journey with me and my family.
His health had been declining and we were anticipating that he didn't have many months but he became acutely ill and, following the awful calculus employed when weighing invasive/extensive interventions versus added quantity or quality of life, we decided to let him go. Thankfully, my son, wife, and I were able to say our goodbyes and I held him when he died.
The house is too quiet. He's not in the window watching me drive up or sitting with me on the couch.
I'm so sad.
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