Saturday was one of those few days when I actually felt like a doctor since I started. I felt like a real primary care doctor... Not because I diagnosed someone with a diseased condition or cured someone of their illness (rarely...afterall, primary care deals with mostly chronic diseases), but because I went to a funeral. A funeral of my favorite patient.

I remember meeting her for the first time in the summer last year, and I was young and inexperienced, worried about doing things wrong and asked for a lot of supervision. She came with a lot of abdominal pain that her daughter thought was very strange, so did I. Then, by October, we confirmed the return of her breast cancer, now with metastasis...

Somehow, she faced this whole situation with steadfastness and courage. We talked about her prognosis, which is not good. I don't think I ever gave her a time line, but only told her to enjoy her time with her family as much as she can, because it is too hard for me to tell. We talked how she was coping with the illness and whether she felt more support is needed. We talked about ways to make her feel comfortable so that she could do things that she wants. She planned out everything and prepared her children for the inevitable. Every time I saw her, a little more of her inner strength shined through her failing body. She insisted that she wants to see me on a monthly basis. I almost offered to visit her at home, but I am not sure if it would be allowed.

Then, before her hospitalization, she told me, "I am not going to take this cancer medication anymore." She was determined. She did not want to have cracked hands and feet anymore. I contacted her oncologist about it. A few days later, she was hospitalized with a pneumonia. She got better, and went home with hospice.

A couple weeks later, before her appointment with me, I received an e-mail that she had passed away. Her daughter called and asked me to attend the funeral..."My mom really wants you to come. She told me that you are the only doctor who has understood her..."

I skipped post-call for 1 hour after getting permission from my resident. Went to the funeral and caught the 2nd half of it. Her brother and her daughter talked about her... It was a very peaceful ceremony, but I couldn't hold back my tears... It was almost like losing a friend. I have learned so much from her over the last 10 months, above love, courage, and the "zen" in her. I felt very special in the sense that I was considered to be her doctor who knew her. Her daughter later introduced me to her entire family... There was definitely some sort of connection going on between the family and I, but I don't have the word to describe it. It is my patient who attached that invisible string for us. We stood there, without much words, but we all understood that connection.

So...this is what being a primary care doctor is like...