It felt strange to drive back into the hospital parking lot this morning. Nate’s radiation oncology doctor had invited me back for a brief get-together, and I was eagerly looking forward to our talk. After I arrived, we walked through a labyrinth of hospital corridors to a wall of polished stainless steel, inside of which was another world. It was a club of sorts, just for doctors, where they could go to shake off the woes of practicing medicine with its unrelenting pressure and enjoy a gourmet meal in a luxurious setting.

“Oh my,” I said, looking around the room, hoping he would let me pay the bill.

“They would never let you pay here,” he said with a chuckle. “It can only be me.”

We sat at a window table covered in white linen, a creatively folded starched napkin standing up next to beautiful polished silverware. As the ginger-pumpkin creamed soup arrived in a china cup set on a white doily, we began our hour-long conversation.

The doctor started. “I remember back to that first meeting when you learned of Nate’s cancer diagnosis. It was a lot to take in, and watching you and Nate, I could see you weren’t absorbing what you were being told. I knew you were about to enter a terrible time with the pancreatic cancer and felt drawn to help you even before you got started, even before you accepted what was happening.

“I haven’t told this to anyone else, but I decided that day I would adopt you both and do whatever I could to cushion the blow as it came.”

I was stunned by his empathy and kindness. My mind traveled back to that agonizing meeting during which our lives changed so dramatically. Nate and I had both loved this doctor immediately, probably sensing his compassion for our situation and for us. Even that first day, on the way back to Michigan, we agreed we were in capable hands. Today he told me he sensed a bond between the three of us almost immediately.

After visiting the lavish buffet and filling our plates, the doctor continued. “You and Nate were shoved out of an airplane without any parachutes.” I nodded, appreciating the accurately descriptive word picture. “I wanted to be there to help you when you landed.”

Once again I was overwhelmed with gratitude for this unusual, caring doctor who had always given us copious amounts of his precious time without seeming rushed. And today he did it again. I asked quite a few questions, some about pancreatic cancer in general and others about Nate’s specific case. It did me a world of good to talk about the days of Nate’s illness with the one who knew every detail even better than I did, the one who had carefully plotted a wise strategy for Nate’s treatment. I told him I often thought back to those days, going over every minute in my mind, and he agreed this was normal, very common for spouses of patients who careen toward their deaths without so much as a day to catch their breath.

We talked about how Nate was slow to internalize his “fate” but that when he did, he’d done it with great grace. “I could tell Nate was very cerebral,” he said, “and that’s how thinking people respond.”

His comments revealed respect for Nate, which was a balm for me. I asked him how he got so talented at figuring out what his patients and their spouses needed next and what they didn’t need at all.

“My wife.” he said. “She taught me to listen at two levels when someone answered one of my questions. I was good at hearing their words but had to learn how to hear their hearts, too, the feelings behind the words.”

He has practiced medicine for over thirty years. “Pancreatic cancer is my thing,” he said. That’s probably because it’s always a miserable, hopeless disease. Most doctors would not want to specialize in that. But because he is the reigning expert at this massive teaching hospital, we were blessed indeed when we were put into his care. As the old saying goes, “When God guides, he provides.”

Time ran out before our conversation did, and the doctor invited me to come back for “part 2” later in the winter. I wouldn’t miss it. As life balances out at a new normal all around me, it will be gratifying to meet with him again, because he is a strong link with Nate and some of our last poignant experiences together, but besides that, he has adopted me!

“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law.” (Galatians 5:22-23)