Sometimes My Job is Tough

Today I had a patientt who is is in the end stages of stomach cancer which has metatasized to his liver. I have been one of the nurses taking care of him on a pretty much bi-weekly basis for the better part of a year. The first line chemo drugs quit working for him about a month or so ago, and they tried a couple of rounds of the second line regimen. It did nothing. Today, he was on the unit for a blood transfusion. His blood levels were too low to allow more chemo for now. His Dr. came in and talked with the family just before I transferred him to an inpatient room. We admitted him because of his overall condition. After a lengthy talk with the family, he left. I could tell that at least one of the sons (he has family scattered all over the southwestern US) didn't really grasp what the Dr. was trying to tell them. The daughter, who has been here with her father all through this process had been unable to make them understand that their dad is terminal. So I stayed in the room after the Dr. left and repeated what he had told them in slower and somewhat simpler terms. I watched those men and their sister struggle with the knowledge they had been trying to dodge: Dad is dying. There is no cure unless a miracle occurs (the Dr's words). He may not make it through the holidays. I asked them if they believed in prayer. They all started to weep, saying yes, and yes again when I asked if we could pray for their dad. Then they asked if I would continue to pray for them. I asked if I could put him on our prayer list, and again they said yes. So, I am asking for your prayers for this man. I can't give you a name because it would be a HIPPA violation, but his initials are EP. We asked for that miracle...