Meaning of Life?

Someone asked me the other day what was the meaning of life.

That caught me off guard. After all, it's not a topic I usually cover during a patient visit, let alone in my everyday routine, much less so in the context of a (administrator-mandated) time-restricted patient visit.

I have to admit, I think I fumbled on that one. No insightful answers or revelations. Nothing witty, or thought-provoking. The scientist or biologist would say- to procreate- to ensure continuation of the genetic line. The planner might say- to provide financial and emotional security to the family. But no. After thinking a few moments, all I could come up with was: To me a good person.

My patient seemed surprised. "Not to be a good doctor?"

No. After I'm gone, I just want people to remember that I was a good person. A good human being. A good father, son, husband, brother, friend. The job, my occupation, though it consumes so much of us- is but a job. A means to an end. It puts food on the table. On good weeks, it's nice to know I might have made a difference in a patient's health. But it's a job; it shouldn't define a person.

No; when I'm gone, I hope that people will remember me as a good person. One, hopefully, who has made a positive difference and perhaps made an indelible mark in their lives.