His battle with prostate cancer stretched over 15 years, and I had the privilege to be his doctor for 7 of those years. His wife accompanied him to most visits, and they were always very deferential and personable. At the end of every visit they always said thank you. This was despite the fact that I had bad news about his cancer so often in his last few months.
We eventually decided to do hospice, which he accepted with the grace and dignity I would have expected from him. He realized that the clock was ticking down deep into the fourth period and that our backs were against a wall. He declined "last ditch" efforts with chemotherapy and was quite at peace with what we had tried to control his cancer. Moreover, he seemed very at peace with the prospect of dying.
I reflected on this more after he passed, and I tried to understand why Coach was so calm in dying while so many of my other patients struggle to accept their mortality. The answer is probably quite complex. However, fundamentally, I believe that Coach had no regrets about the way he lived his life or how he treated those close to him. There was not lost time to be made up for or apologies to give. I say this because I saw the devotion his wife and daughter had for him firsthand.
When I called his family to express my condolences on the day of his passing, I also came to appreciate how much his example had touched me. Coach made me want to be a better dad, a better patient, and a better person. I wept when I spoke with his daughter that day. I told her, "I hope that when I die I am half the man your father was." I told her, " I am sorry that I could not do more. " I told her that I was certain that Coach was in a better place. I imagined him up in heaven playing ball and schooling the angels who would be better for having known him just like me.
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