For K and K
The first patient who died and the first newborn I took care of in the nursery – have the same name.
I wish I could write it. Suffice it to say, it’s a beautiful name and an uncommon one.
The first patient who died, the first K, was 29, with metastatic cancer. Latina.
The first newborn in the nursery, the first birth after K and a string of other deaths, was 6 hours old when I met her. Half Japanese, half Turkish.
And they have the same name with the same spelling, and, most likely, the same black hair.
Born thirty years apart.
This year, I’ve kept track of all my patients who have been born and who have died.