Five years ago this week my sister and I got a call from our dad that mom was in the hospital. She had a heart attack. It wasn't one of those sharp pains, where you suddenly drop to the ground. It started off as a slight throbing in her chest, then over the next seven our eight hours became progressivly worse.
She refused to go to emergency, until the pain got so bad my dad finally said 'Im taking you now.' Once she was admitted, they discovered she had stage four lung cancer, and blood clots. If she had somehow miraculously survived the cancer, she still would have lost her leg, or maybe more. It was a trifecta of bad news.
Three weeks later, after first being admitted to Sharp/Grossmont, she passed away on Labor Day at Sharp's hospice house in La Mesa. It was, and is, a place she helped build and was a part of for nearly twenty years. We held her memorial service there, and our family was blown away to hear how much she meant to the hundreds of people whose lives she touched across San Diego, and whose final days and hours were comforted by the work she did.
Sometimes, in the business I'm in, we get caught up in our own self importance. I suppose it's that way in a lot of jobs. But to me, what she did, and the comfort she provided to all those people, will outshine anything I can do. And that's OK. But if I can help get the message out about Sharp/Grossmont, and the wonderful work they do, then a little bit of her work lives on through me.