Samuel LeBaron

Before writing about this book, I’ve had to let its contents steep in my mind for several days. This is an intense, introspective, and compelling memoir that focuses on the author’s work, first as a clinical psychologist in paediatric oncology and later as a family physician and clinical professor at Stanford University. The book begins with his memories of childhood in rural Alberta, Utah, and Montana. His family had a farm of sorts, and farm kids see a great deal more of the life cycle than city kids do. As a boy, he had many encounters with death. Initially, he was curious and accepting of it as a natural part of life, but with experience, education, and growing reasoning faculties, fear took over, just as it does in most of us.

LeBaron presents a rather nebulous account of breaking his leg as a very young child. It was a time in which physicians believed that children did not suffer pain as adults do and were consequently seldom treated for it. (Until relatively recently, the same beliefs were held by veterinarians about animals.) The author recalls a nurse telling him to stop his crying. This early experience left a deep impression on him, and he believes it played a decisive (if largely unconscious) role in his decision to accompany suffering children (and their parents) who were coping with cancer diagnoses.

As a psychologist trainee, he surprised even himself by volunteering to work with a paediatric oncologist who desperately wanted to help the terrified children she had to perform procedures on. After his first experience attending a consult involving the oncologist, a little patient, and the child’s mother, the physician remarked that LeBaron’s being there had made a huge difference. The comforting presence of a caring person, a person simply bearing witness, was in itself a sort of intervention. The author would go on to work closely with a hospital paediatrician on psychological aspects of care. He was on track for a tenured position when he felt urged by an internal voice to attend medical school. His department head thought he was nuts: LeBaron was 40 years old with a wife and two kids; he’d be uprooting them, abandoning a successful career, and taking a serious financial hit. The open-minded dean, however, had an entirely different reaction. He listened with interest and observed that when a person hears that kind of voice, he’s well-advised to listen to it.

The author presents many stories about his patients and two about very significant friendships. Towards the end of the book, he describes the death of his parents and his own diagnosis of Stage IV lung cancer in 2020. He had never been a smoker. LeBaron died in January 2023.

This book evoked a strong emotional response in me. It’s an inward-looking work—reflective, mediative, and even mystical at times. The author recounts a number of dreams that he feels revealed his inner workings or guided him. Some readers may grow impatient with these and the interiority of some sections of the book. The subject matter alone is probably not something everyone will be receptive to.

LeBaron appears to have been raised a Mormon, which interested me greatly, as my mother was a member of the Church of Latter Day Saints for a brief period during my childhood. My siblings and I attended Sunday school classes and I have strong memories of the culture and the jargon. Even in childhood, LeBaron was uncomfortable with and questioned the Mormon/Christian narrative about death. Throughout the book, he provides some alternative analogies about the end of life, but I would’ve been interested in a more explicit discussion of his spiritual beliefs.

I found this a valuable and occasionally wrenching read, powerful and thought-provoking. In some cases, a child is far more accepting of his death than his parents, and sometimes psychological suffering arises from worry about his parents not acknowledging that death is imminent. Children, adults, all of us really, need to be reassured that we will always be a part of the family, remembered, even when we’re gone.… (plus d'informations)