He was a young man in the final stages of AIDS and I was his hospice nurse (for about six months). He was blind and had a massive open  lesion on his face that constantly seeped blood.  I felt an overwhelming compassion for him but I felt frustrated because I wanted to hug him so much.  But, he was always a bloody mess from the wounds.  This pains me to this day, over two decades later.  I was written up for taking his clothes and sheets home to wash them because he had nothing clean. His drunken cousin was relegated to be his caregiver, even though my patient was getting over $3000/month from disability and retirement accounts.  

I found him alone in his roach infested apartment, his caregiver nowhere to be found.  He was actively dying, unresponsive, alone. I called his doctor and begged he be admitted so that he wouldn’t die by himself. I called an ambulance for transport. I had called his family but there was no response.  No surprise there.  

I met him in the emergency room and he aroused enough to speak to me. He looked towards me and he said, “why are you here?”  I tearfully said something akin to wanting to check on him and make sure he was ok.  About this time his mother arrived. He spoke to me again and said, “why do you care?”  I sobbed. He haunts me to this day.  I don’t believe there is an afterlife but if there is, please let me see him and hug him and tell him I love him.