being a part of the household. Murphy started smoking at the age of 9, influenced by his siblings, and later experimented with drugs during his high school years. But after marrying, he stopped using substances, found a new sense of purpose and fathered two children. However, his personal struggles didn’ t end there. He endured a traumatic marriage marked by physical, emotional and sexual abuse of his partner, and after a prolonged battle, lost custody of his children. Eventually, he found love again, meeting someone who treated him with the respect and care he deserved. Together, they created a stable and loving home for the children. Yet, as Murphy’ s health began to deteriorate, his life took another tragic turn. After years of hospital visits, he too was diagnosed with chronic pancreatitis, which brought constant pain. But the pain did not stop there; his health continued to decline until he was diagnosed with end-stage heart failure. His physical suffering was compounded by the emotional toll of caring for his mother, who was placed in a nursing home. By the time I met him in January, Murphy had grown exhausted from the relentless cycle of hospitalizations and worsening symptoms. Despite it all, he remained determined to fight. He spoke of a deep sense of gratitude for the care received, but he also expressed a fear of not being able to do it alone.
Our conversation delved into his emotional and spiritual struggles as well. Raised in a mixed Baptist and Catholic household, Murphy had never been baptized, but he was desperate to be. His desire for spiritual healing was palpable as he asked me if I could help him find a rosary. Although I didn’ t have one on me, I recalled a small figure of Jesus a librarian had given me earlier that day, which read“ Jesus Loves You.” I handed it to him and his eyes filled with tears. He reached out, pulled me into a tight embrace and thanked me repeatedly, overcome with emotion.
Over an hour passed since I had entered the room, and we talked not only about his physical pain but also about the meaning of life, faith and love. Before I left, he asked if I had any questions for my report, but in that moment, I realized that the medical details were secondary. The heartbeats I listened to were not just a measure of his physical condition, but also a testament to his courage, hope and resilience. As I sat there, I couldn’ t help but feel that I had been given the privilege of impacting his life in a way that went beyond the clinical world. When I listened to his lungs, each breath seemed more precious, each one filled with determination. His heart, though weakening, continued to beat with a spirit that refused to surrender.
The next day, I decided to check in with Murphy to see how he was doing. He shared that he had met with the chaplain, but something still felt missing. He still deeply desired to be baptized, and his longing for spiritual peace was noticeable. I asked if he would like me to help him fulfill this wish that very day, and his eyes lit up. He could barely contain his excitement, jumping up and down with as much energy as he could muster. Without hesitation, I called the local priest and explained the situation. He arrived promptly, and we gathered in his room with the chaplain, the priest and Murphy.
In that moment, I couldn’ t help but feel that something profound was happening— he was about to receive the spiritual healing he had longed for. He shared his story with the priest, who listened intently, then prayed with and for him. The priest baptized him, confirmed him and gave him first communion, performing the sacraments with such reverence. As Murphy received these blessings, a sense of peace seemed to envelop the room. His breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes, speaking quietly with God. A wave of tranquility filled the space, and in that sacred moment, it felt as though all of his suffering had been softened. Afterwards, Murphy looked up at the priest with gratitude shining in his eyes. Father gave him the rosary he’ d asked for and promised to visit him again to teach him how to pray it. Murphy’ s joy was overwhelming, and as the priest left, I followed behind, witnessing something deeply moving. As I walked past his bed, Murphy reached out to me, his eyes filled with tears. He pulled me into a tight embrace, thanking me over and over. His tears flowed freely as he held me, and in that moment, I couldn’ t help but feel profoundly moved myself. To witness Murphy, after everything he had endured, finally find the peace he had been searching for was a gift I will carry with me forever.
As I looked into his eyes, I knew that our time together was meaningful for both of us. Murphy had given me a gift: the reminder that, as health care providers, we are not just treating bodies but also souls. I left his room that day with a heavy heart, knowing that his time was short, but also with a deep sense of gratitude for having been a part of his story. It was an experience that, though difficult and emotionally draining, reaffirmed why I chose medicine in the first place: to make a difference in patients’ lives, not just by addressing their illness, but by offering empathy, compassion and a listening ear when they need it most. It was a beautiful, life-changing encounter, one that I will carry with me throughout my career.
* Patient information has been changed to maintain patient privacy.
Meghan Cawood is a third-year medical student at the University of Louisville School of Medicine at the Trover campus.
Dr. Crump is the Associate Dean of the ULSOM Trover campus.
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