When we moved to Brisbane we found a family medical practice in the adjoining suburb. I liked the fact that there were a number of female doctors sharing the practice. Over the years I have settled on two women in particular as my personal doctors. Two because they work staggered hours and are not always available, so I moved between the two women, depending on who was available that day. I feel equally confident in both doctors.
Last year, one of my doctors developed cancer. We were all devastated as she is a wonderful woman, who has spent time in remote Aboriginal health before moving back to the city. She has teenage children, her son suffered a life threatening disease of his own, just prior to her diagnosis.
Monday morning, when I was in the office for a check up, I asked how her illness was progressing and was told the heart breaking news that she was in palliative care. Final stage.
I feel so sad. I feel sorry for her, and her family, and I feel sorry for her patients who are being robbed of a caring and supportive doctor.
Life is not fair, and death is inevitable for us all, but sometimes, the cruelties of life and death just make me want to shake my fist and curse.