Patient in Room 17

I'm currently at work while also preparing for my upcoming makeup final exam on Friday. At the moment, there's a patient in room 17, which is located across from the central area where I typically sit. This patient is an 80-year-old male who deals with short-term memory loss, often coming out of his room every 5-10 minutes, expressing a strong desire to go home. What strikes me about him is not just his condition but his remarkable attitude. He's consistently cute and kind in his interactions.

Whenever he asks to go home, the nurses have to come up with creative stories to explain why he can't leave. Sometimes, when I'm alone at my station without a nurse present, he'll approach me and inquire why he can't go home. I don't mind answering his questions at all because each time I do, he responds by saying how nice and kind I am, expressing his appreciation for the help. I genuinely feel for this gentleman and care about his well-being. It's akin to having a neighbor who knocks on your door every 5 minutes, but because he's so affable, you're more than willing to assist.

The fact that there isn't a cure for memory loss troubles me deeply, and it's not just memory loss; there are many medical conditions for which we lack effective treatments. While we do admirable work in the hospital, saving lives and improving the quality of life for countless individuals, I can't help but empathize with those who suffer from conditions we can't yet treat.

Both of my grandfathers battled Parkinson's disease. I lost one of my grandfathers due to complications from this disease, and my other grandfather continues to struggle with it daily. While there are medications available to slow down its progression, the fact that we can't completely cure such diseases weighs heavily on my mind. Hopefully, in the future, there will be more effective medications and treatments available for this population. I do really hope for a better future.