I’m writing in response to Danielle Snyderman’s Field Notes essay “Not Yet, The Epilogue” (Spring 2021 Intima). I wrote the poem “The Trail to Ahous Bay” to read aloud to my friend Joan Bodger. She was in the palliative care unit of Tofino Hospital on Vancouver Island. I had come from Toronto to visit with her, and to say goodbye. I was staying on Vargas Island, a short boat ride from Tofino, and had taken the cross-island hike that became the poem.
Read moreThe Importance of Providing Compassionate Palliative and End-of-Life Care
A writer reflects on her own mother’s experience with death and dying and argues for the greater recognition of palliative care in the clinical encounter.
Read moreOn Healing, Suffering, and End-Of-Life Care
A medical student reflects on two pieces of fiction published in this journal that deal with the duality of suffering and healing.
Read moreSurprising Behavior in the Pandemic
A palliative care nurse analyzes poetry and studio art created in response to the ongoing pandemic—and appreciates how these different pieces generate surprising parallels.
Read moreWhat the Dying Need by Rachel Prince
Shortly after reading Vigil, I stumbled upon Sara Baker’s poem, “What Do the Dying Want?” (Spring 2015). In this work, Baker explores the titular question by wondering how healthcare professionals, hospice workers, or even caregivers and family members can properly address the needs of the dying – is the correct way through words and stories, reminiscing, music, meaningful touch, or just holding space and being present?
Read moreWays of Knowing (and Not Knowing) When the Prognosis is Terminal by writer PK Kennedy
"Right in here, remove your clothes. Underwear and bra can stay on but put the robe on so it's open in the back, not the front, okay?"
The words are coming at me in a torrent; I can’t understand any of them, but I know the drill.
I throw my stuff in a bag, take a deep breath, and open the door to the inpatient surgical waiting room. It smells like alcohol and ice and has no memories I can sense. Am I the first person that’s ever come here?
“You’re here for the lumbar?”
I cut her off before she could say puncture. "Yes."
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