Story from Jason Ridgel MD
The sight of her repulsed me and I hesitated
in the doorway of the exam room. She was a grossly overweight woman with coarsely
shaved hair on her chin. The loosely fitting housedress was stained and unable
to hide her hideously swollen legs that were now red and warm with infection.
"you look like the boy that plays the piano at church" she said, giving
me a toothless grin. I was ashamed at my hesitation to touch her body.
Over the next few months I managed to rid her of the infection, but it was obvious
to me that she could not possibly care for herself with her weight, failing
heart, and weak lungs. Her family had abandoned her, but she clung fiercely
to that last bit of humanity which was her independence. She refused to leave
her apartment for a nursing home. Knowing she could no longer physically get
to my office, I took my medical bag and, feeling very altruistic, drove to her
tiny apartment.
With my benevolence worn too proudly, I stepped up to her door. There, I was
quite shocked to find that her church too had decided to bring itself to the
apartment. As the door swung in, I was enveloped in a passionate ecstasy of
gospel singing emanating from the throng of people packed shoulder to shoulder
4 deep into that tiny apartment. There, in the middle of the room, bathed in
the warmth of human vibrations, sat my patient, smiling. In that moment, I saw
her as the beautiful human being that she was. No one in that room saw her differently.
After the singing had finished she gave me a large hug, and thanked me for coming.
I, realizing the futility of my actions, wrote out her prescriptions and promised
to visit again next week. I could not keep my appointment for she died quietly
3 days later in her apartment. When I think of her now, I do not remember that
grotesque body. Instead I see the warmth of people able to forgive a failed-body
and embrace a friend with song. Jason
Ridgel MID Cleveland, Ohio