One of my elderly ladies in the nursing home started having rectal bleeding in her early 80s. The workup revealed surgically curable sigmoid colorectal cancer. That is, she had colon cancer we could likely cure with taking out a foot or so of her colon and reconnecting the plumbing in one operation. She came back from hospital in good shape as far as the surgeon and I could see, but quit eating, and was losing weight after. The nurses thought she was depressed. On the weekend before seeing her, the family and I, for my kids were young, were hiking in the high mountains picking alpine blueberries. They are the best! They are small but sweet, and taste like they smell: like flowers. The following Tuesday was my monthly time to see this lady. I decided, like Forrest Gump, “for no particular reason” to bring her some of those blueberries. I told her she was cured of the cancer, and had no reason to die, and to eat my blueberries, since if you didn’t like them “One of the proofs of God’s existence”—well, then there’s nothing more I can do for you….
She started eating, and recovered. Miracle? Coincidence? At minimum, a positive message, the placebo effect, and perhaps just luck. I prefer to think that the doctor patient relationship, if not all human relationship, is a sacred thing, and that the Higher Power of Love is responsible for her recovery. I know it wasn’t just me and my magic blueberries, but it was remarkable, meaningful, and unforgettable.