KEYWORDS:Healing, Medical education s I looked at her scan results, I knew it was bad. Multiple hepatic metastases, although the primary cancer remained unknown. A kind, gentle 85 year old woman, newly widowed, who only recently had felt ill and had no idea. As I watched my attending staff break the news and sit with her as she cried quietly, I was overcome with sadness. Over the next four months, I had the privilege of caring for her on the hospital wards, and in the emergency room, as I coincidentally happened to be doing shifts when she came in, in another acute decline. Even when I was not directly caring for her, I would run into her in the hospital and we would chat as we crossed paths in the hallway, she looking more gaunt and jaundiced, but more at peace, every time I saw her. As I saw her progress on her journey, the meaning she gave to her life and time remaining began to filter down to me as well. Whereas at the start of our time together I had been preoccupied with the futility of our treatments, I began to simply listen and accompany her as our time together went on and her acceptance grew. During one of my last weeks on the hospital wards, I glanced down at the patient list and was happy to see her name, though knew it probably meant she had further deteriorated. I was not shocked when I learned she was now receiving palliative care, and likely had A