I've been haunted by a patient that I helped admit to the hospital awhile ago. He was in his early 20's, and almost unbearably handsome, with a halo of floppy brown curls and a chiseled face resembling Billy Crudup's. He noted that one of the other doctors was a musician by looking at his fingers, and revealed that he was a musician himself. He had a website with his music on it, and encouraged us to check it out. The guy had advanced cancer which had spread to his brain, and his prognosis was poor, but this was the first time he needed to be admitted to the hospital. I could tell that he was not yet used to being sick, or thinking of himself as sick, despite his diagnosis. I reacted to this by making my demeanor particularly friendly, and tossing some jokes at him. He had an intense gaze that locked onto me, and he interrupted my medical questioning several times to ask me personal questions. His facial expression gradually changed from frozen and anxious to mischievous, and he then began to openly flirt with me. He even sang some goofy song phrases inspired by things we spoke about. As someone who is very conscious of being professional at all times, and maintaining proper boundaries with patients, I had to sort out in my head what the appropriate response would be. Ultimately I flirted back just a bit, primarily because I sensed that he wanted to be distracted from the shittiness of his situation. Given how cute and charming he was, it wasn't a struggle...at first. When he revealed that he was voting for McCain, and wanted to talk politics with me, I had to bite my tongue, although he visibly perked up when he saw that he had struck a nerve and continued to try, in vain, to engage me in a political discussion. I later found his website and listened to his music while writting my admission note into his chart, which was a bit surreal.

He was in the hospital for awhile afterward, and ultimately underwent major surgery. I wondered about visiting him, about getting to know him better, about perhaps discovering some of his hopes and dreams which will be lost to the world when he dies. But as someone who was no longer part of the medical team taking care of him, I thought it was inappropriate to do so. I did not see him again after that first night. I'm not sure whether this was the right or wrong decision. But the memory of him will stay with me, as the memories of other patients like him stay with me.