Healers, scientists, leaders — these are all terms that we equate with being a physician. As we spend our years if not decades in training, we strive to become all of these components. But when you miss something — the small details, the nuances of a history and these are the clues that could lead to healing it can be disheartening. When it comes to your own family member, such misses can feel tragic, and the feelings of guilt can become all-encompassing.
My brother and I grew up nearly a decade apart. I followed a fairly straight path through medical school and subsequent training. My brother followed in my footsteps. I went into cardiology, and my brother entered family medicine residency. Although we were very different in personality, our shared profession allowed us to grow closer despite the large gap in our ages. We would randomly run into each other, often in the middle of the night, while we were on call and discuss some cases or share some random laughs.
This past year, my brother passed away unexpectedly. It was a Tuesday morning, and I got a call that he had not shown up for hospital rounds … particularly unusual as he was usually the earliest resident to show up. He was ultimately found to have passed away from both a heart attack and a stroke — at the age of 28.
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