Thursday, August 13, 2009


While surfing the web recently I came across this picture of one of the ER docs that I used to work with. I retired in 2001 and had worked with him for more than 15 years.

“Moose” (as we irreverently and affectionately called him) was/is a good Dr. and he really keeps the ER moving. He runs a tight ship and has the ability to lighten tense situations that inevitably are a part of every ER.

I haven’t thought of Dr. M. for a long time but the minute that I saw this photo I was transported back to a glum day in September of 2000. My husband of 32 years had passed away on the 22nd and this was my first day back at work.

I was working beside Dr. M. that day and, other than a quick hug in the morning, there was no indication that he was aware of my sadness. It was the usual hectic day and I found comfort in the hustle and bustle of things that I was used to doing.

That was one of the longest days of my life. I found that if I concentrated on each task as it came up that I could get through without crying; but, it was very taxing and I was exhausted when my shift finally ended. I think I remember picking up some food from the cafeteria so that I wouldn’t have to cook when I got home.

It was a very strange feeling to approach my empty house. It had so recently been filled with family and friends who had helped me cope with the loss of Dick. Now they were all gone & I was on my own. The tears were streaming down my face as I unlocked the door and entered.

Once inside the house I was overcome with emotion. Giving in to my exhaustion I headed for the bedroom and that’s when I noticed that the light was blinking on my answering machine. I was so tired I almost didn’t listen to it but I did ... and here’s what it said:

“Hi, Ginnie, this is Moose. I knew you’d be walking into an empty house and just wanted you to know that you’re not alone. We love you and are here for you. See you in the morning.”

I have never forgotten how much that simple message meant to me. I’ve kept it close to my heart and I bring it out on occasion when the healing process falters. Thanks, Moose.


Blogger KGMom said...

Oh Ginnie--what a sweet story, but filled with the grief you must have felt.
What a great guy your doctor friend/colleague is.

5:05 AM  
Blogger Syd said...

Ginnie, this post made me sad because I could feel how lonely that must be, coming home to an empty house. I'm glad that you got that call. My sponsor sometimes has difficulty dealing with being lonely since his wife died. Yet, he maintains that he is never really alone due to the presence of his HP. I like that.

6:10 AM  
Blogger Chancy said...

What a lovely, thoughtful gesture that was . Dr M must be a rare breed of doctor and also a friend. He had just the right touch when you needed it most.

Healing comes in many forms. Even on an answering machine.


1:16 PM  
Blogger Anvilcloud said...

This is such a lesson. It usually doesn't take much. I wish I could do better about being thoughtful and reaching out a bit more.

5:01 PM  
Blogger kenju said...

Oh, what a treasure he is!!

9:19 PM  
Blogger Cazzie!!! said...

I cried reading this one Ginnie, because that is exactly what you needed at that moment, and it IS because of the team of Doctors and Nurses just Like Dr M that make our exhausting job worthwhile..and make our life easier.

1:45 AM  
Blogger Tossing Pebbles in the Stream said...

Your story reminds us how important little acts of kindness can be. We should all try to offer them when we can.

6:31 AM  
Blogger Diana said...

Hi Ginnie,
Reading this story made me sad. You are good at making people feel what you are writing!

2:35 PM  
Blogger dmmgmfm said...

That was beautiful of him to do.

12:07 PM  
Blogger Bernie said...

I so remember this feeling, after my husband died I think coming home to an empty house was almost the worst....even today I don't like coming home to an empty house. I think you Dr. Moose was wonderful......:-) Hugs

11:24 PM  

Post a Comment

<< Home