I’ve been telling you about too many deaths and serious illnesses around me. This year, it doesn’t stop. The man, who decided to forego his next chemo packed it in over Easter. He got so bad, he had to be hospitalized again and removed all tubes medicating and helping him breathe over night, so he could find his final rest on Easter Saturday.
This Sunday, I stood remembering him with one of his golfing friends. They used to play together every Sunday morning, as long as he was still able to play. The woman I talked to, is a doctor. A heart specialist working at Charité in Berlin. I really like they way, she enjoys her Sunday mornings. Coming out well before their usual tee-off time around nine o’ clock. Exchanging a few pleasantries, before having, what she calls her most treasured, quiet and private time, hitting balls on the driving range. Helping her forget the hardships of her brutal working weeks out in fresh air, before meeting up with her golfing friends for their Sunday round. This week, our usual early morning exchange wasn’t as pleasant, as she explained the medical side of what our friend had suffered, a bit better to me. Trying to tell me, his choice was for the best, as sad as it is for us. We parted reminding each other, how good it is, to be alive and well. For one moment we each kept silence, cherishing exactly that, then smiled at each other. I thought, that she must know this better than most of us, as I watched her leave for the driving range. Treating heart patients, I am sure she has her full share of heartbreaking stories all the time. Silently wishing her a good, relaxing day out on the greens.
Yesterday evening, just as I was ready to leave the office, my phone rang. I learned, the doctor Lady was found dead on her kitchen floor on Sunday afternoon.