A cessation of suffering

One of my former patients died this week. I just read his obit in the local paper and spent some time crying and reminiscing about him.

Doodle was one of the funniest, sweetest people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He would walk the hallways and when I had a quiet moment I'd offer him my arm and we'd walk together, chatting about nothing much but conversing nonetheless.

Me: "It's a beautiful day today, Doodle"

D: "Oh, that's for sure, it's a beautiful day, that's for sure. *singing* And the roses growing in the garden, and the lilacs and the roses, the roses growing..."

That song was constantly on his lips. I can still hear his baritone voice murmuring that song as he walked. When he was stressed about anything, that song would get faster and faster. I knew Doodle was not happy when the wordsallrantogetherlikethis....

Once, after he'd had an accident, I was cleaning him up and getting him into new underpants. I was wiping him and accidentally grazed a very sensitive part of the male anatomy and he jumped and said "Hey! Watch the junk! Gotta watch the junk, that's for sure...."

I smiled and cried at the same time as I read that he had died this morning. I am sad because I truly believe that the world is a little less bright without his presence, no matter how limited it may have been....but at the same time I am glad that there has been a cessation of suffering for him.

There is a memorial service this weekend for him, and I think that I may attend. I don't normally attend funerals, but this isn't a funeral...because Doodle, in typical Doodle-style, has donated his body to science.

It's almost spring, and I think that I may plant a rose in memory of my friend Doodle. I think he would have liked that.