Only a discussion about comfort, dignity, and the time she had left.
Afterward, I returned to the corridor and stood outside her room longer than necessary.
I dreaded going inside.
I had become accustomed to bringing patients plans, test results, and possible next steps. I did not know what to do with the helplessness of having nothing new to offer.
When I finally entered, Alicia looked at me and immediately understood that something had changed.
“Bad news?” she asked.
I sat down.
“We need to talk about your condition.”
She listened quietly. For once, she did not interrupt me with a joke.
When I finished, she looked toward the window.
“So, that’s it?”
“We’re going to make sure you’re comfortable, Alicia. We’ll keep treating your symptoms and supporting you.”
“But you can’t fix it.”
I struggled to answer.
“I wish I could.”
She nodded.
Then, unexpectedly, she took a breath and said, “I have one last wish.”
