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Dear ER gang,
So, here I am, out on the beach at 5:30 in the evening. Elizabeth is sitting
with me, drinking juice, but I'm all about the Mai Tai's. The sun's going down.
Rachel is dipping Ella's toes in the ocean, as they head off on a quest for the
perfect seashell. And weirdly enough, I find myself thinking, you know what
would make this moment complete? Some jogger dropping to the sand short of
breath, so I can swoop in with a piece of bamboo to perform a nice, clean
intubation, fix the guy up and send him off with a good, simple dispo. Which I
guess is my way of saying that I miss you all and that dingy place. Lots of
times I thought I should have chosen a different career, or gone into private
practice - something easier, less grinding, more lucrative, but since I've been
gone, I realize that outside of what I'm doing right now - sitting on this beach
with my family - staying at County all those years, doing what we do on a daily
basis, was the best choice I ever made. I know what you're thinking, but trust
me, it's not so hard to appreciate once it's over. As much as part of me would
like to believe that the ER can't go on without me, a smarter part realizes that
you're an incredible group of doctors and nurses, who approach every day with
such skill, compassion and thoroughness that, when it comes to patient care, I
know my absence will hardly be felt. As for friendship and camaraderie - well,
that's another matter. In order to leave, I had to go the way I did, but I
wouldn't want any of you to think that that meant I didn't value each of you and
the years that we worked together. Or that I didn't have things of a more
personal nature to say. Most of you, I think, have an idea of what those things
might be without me writing them down, but still...
Ella is laughing and waving for me; Rachel's found her shell...
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Mark died this morning at 6:04 am. The sun was rising. His favorite time of day.
I sent this on so that you might know he was thinking of you all and that he
appreciated knowing you would remember him well.
Elizabeth Corday |