Never Enough

My friend died a little over two hours ago. This morning. It's so fresh, so new. I still have three tissues on my desk. They're what's left of the five I stole from my colleague's desk. I can't cry at work. Not cool. Not right for a Surgery Girl. I want to cry. I want to bawl like a lost lamb. I want to weep. Later.

I want to cry away the sadness but also the guilt. I feel guilty because I hadn't seen her for a couple months. I didn't go to see her at the long-term care facility she was moved to from the very hospital where I'm employed. I never found the time. I'm so wiped out from working here. Or so I say. She texted me to let me know the day she was leaving and I was up to my neck in clinic patients. I texted back a sunny (or so I thought), "Sorry! Swamped! Can't make it. Love, Love!"

I never saw her again except for her pictures. I pulled her blog up today to give myself a little stab in the heart.

This has happened before, but not to the same extent. Friends have been treated in my hospital and I've been overwhelmed with other cancer patients. I haven't been able to get by to see them. This feels so weak, and excuse-ful to me.

I'm sure I'm just wishing for another shared latte with Deb...which usually sat on the bedside table because she was too weak to drink it. I'm certain I really want nothing more than time to tell her in person that I love her. This is grief. This is the pain I go through each time one of my patients doesn't make it. This personalization is the hard part for me. When a number is attached, instead of a personal history I tend to do so much better.