Transcript

In the past, I worked at Charity Hospital in New Orleans, serving the city’s indigent population. Near the end of the day, a patient presented for repair of his hernia. He looked 20 years older than his stated age. Tattoos in the form of dashes bisected his face from his hairline along his nose and chin, ending at his chest. One ear lobe hung in two parts while the other was able to still hold its large spacer. Two fingers on his left hand were missing, along with many teeth. His current address was a viaduct and the hospital gown was his first clean outfit during the past 4 weeks. As I introduced myself, I rested my hand on his shoulder and told him I would be with him the entire time of his surgery. At the end of my preoperative assessment, he did not have any questions. Instead, he told me that it had been years since anyone had touched him in kindness, as I just did. That’s when I understood the ministry of healthcare. I’m not able to cure everyone. I won’t be able to even improve the health of some of my patients. Yet, I can touch every one of my patients in kindness.