He looked at me and asked “Is this it?”

I looked at him, my eyes dewy with compassion and took his hand saying “It very well could be.”

He squeezed my hand, struggling to breath he said “I just want you to know it have been my privilege to spend my last days and hours with you.”

He died shortly after.

This patient wrote a poem – “God you’ve been good to me” he called it. God’s been good to me by allowing me to care for such a man.