Children love to see the “man in the moon” when it is fully rounded and glowing brightly. It seems magical. He smiles at them!

Many people in health care are not so thrilled by the full moon, as stunning a sight as one can be.

Last night, there was one so bright it glowed. It looked like the biggest pearl ever found. I forgot to brace myself for today.

There was a study done some years ago which “proved” that the full moon does not bring more people to Emergency Rooms, much less under odd circumstances.  Oh, yes, it does.

Today, although I no longer work in a hospital, I had a hospital-full moon kind of day—the kind when if it can go wrong, it does. Terribly wrong.

One close friend has an adult child in peril too great to describe. It could identify her. It is about as bad as it gets.

Another close friend is deep into something way, way, way bigger than he is. Bigger than most of us, actually. He won’t even tell me what it is about.  You have read about street smarts. After enough years walking the halls of hospitals, you get patient-smart. I am quietly alarmed about him and for him. No clue what to do.

The husband of an old friend is growing more frail every day. When I get details, I sound brave to the one telling me about it, even as not one of us can even think about any good-bye. Yet that word is starting to whisper in my ear.  When it does, I flinch. Today, of course, was the e-mail update day.

These are private horrors, which pale in comparison to wars, famine, flood and pestilence—all of which plague people all over this globe, the same one the full moon is shining down on right now.

When the private horror is deeply affecting someone you love, it is hard to keep one’s perspective as well as one should. It is hard to remember millions are suffering when someone you care deeply about is suffering.

Or, it is for this one.

Hospital staff come to understand that there are problems which are so much bigger than we humans are, problems so big that our only course is to bow to life and wait for whatever comes next. Hoping it will turn out better than we think. Fear.

This is a unique form of helplessness for people who work in health care. There is illusion of control, created by data, data, data and studies which confidently report the latest findings.

So much knowledge. No way to use it for this patient, at this moment of great need.

Meanwhile, the man in the moon keeps on smiling at me as I write this.

Watch him. He’s not a man you want around.