Loss, grief, and angels.

I lost someone I loved today. I work for three generations of neurosurgeons, all excellent and devoted physicians who spend their lives saving lives. The older doctor died today, and I am very, very saddened by this loss.

He was Dr. Kenneth Richland and recently received the first Distinguished Physician Award from Northridge Hospital for his fifty years of practice. Nowadays, these brain and spine surgeons can often diagnose a patient's problem in a matter of seconds or minutes, just viewing an MRI or a CT scan. There were no scans when Dr. Richland started his practice, but he still treated ruptured brain aneurysms, subdural hematomas, head injuries, and spinal cord injuries with his wits and lots and lots of amazing efforts. There were no other neurosurgeons in the area in those days and he flew his plane as far as Bakersfield to treat trauma patients, spending many hours uncompensated for his life-saving work. During the last decade or so, as he worked less hours, he spent considerable time with his children and grandchildren, taking them on countless trips all over the world to try to compensate for not being there for them when they were growing up. And they loved him deeply.

As much as patients adored and respected him as a doctor, he was also the kindest and most gentle man. My office is often organized chaos, during which he would visit with his smile and kind words, always thanking us for our modest efforts on his behalf and bringing a ray of light and sunshine to our difficult days. He deeply enjoyed his work and never hesitated to see patients without insurance, saying he just wanted to be of help. Patients would often stop by my office to tell us that they knew him decades ago and never forgot his kindness and devoted care to them during their medical crisis. I've heard story after story of his giving money to nurses to help them with their school costs, never asking for reimbursement. He was loved and respected by so many people that it would be impossible to count them all.

I did see him last night in his nursing home bed. I'm not sure he knew I was there, but I stayed for a while, holding his hand and talking to him while he slept. I looked at his hands, thinking of the many people whose lives he had affected dramatically with his skills and judgment. Yet, when I told a VP at the hospital of his passing, she told me how he would light up at the sound of my name, how he loved the ladies in my office and that working with us brought him joy.

I was reminded this week by a therapist that much of my adult difficulties relate to a childhood being raised by parents who didn't love or appreciate me. Dr. Richland was like a tonic to that pain, always expressing how much he appreciated even my smallest efforts on his behalf. He was a great neurosurgeon and a wonderful man. Through my tears, I keep reminding myself that I am a better person for having known him. It is a reminder again to me that the riches in my life are the people I know and love, that it's not money that makes me wealthy but the people in my life who bless me with their love and kindness and allow me the privilege of being their friend. I am very grateful for my time with Dr. Richland and will miss him very much. If there is a heaven, he is surely there, bringing smiles to the angels.