"We're not going to leave you, Daddy," she said.
"Well, of course not. It's too hot to go outside!" he tried to joke, but the tremor in his voice gave him away, as his eyes started to well up as well.
My patient has small cell lung cancer. And even though he's currently getting palliative radiation, today we had the discussion about end-of-life goals of care. And today, we had to face the fact that our patient only has weeks to months to live.
Sure, we may have had numerous classes about difficult conversations. And this - this was probably the most difficult conversation of them all. Ask the patient what they know. Ask them how much they want to know. Be honest, and be compassionate. Allow them to ask questions. Don't rush. Be there. Offer tissues. Hold their hand, if appropriate.
But all the classes in the world couldn't prepare me for all the emotions that were in that room. All the emotions that made me start to tear up too.
Call your parents tonight and remind them you love them. Because, as my patient said, "tomorrow isn't a guarantee, it's a gift." Carpe diem, indeed.
