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As a doctor, I sometimes find myself on the other side of the medical desk—not as a physician, but as a patient or, more often, as a relative of one. Suddenly, the tables are turned, both figuratively and literally.

Something similar is happening now with the Holy Father. Of course, I am not his direct family. But—and here it is—I just called him “Holy Father.” In my native Portuguese, I call him “Papa.” There is a certain connection here, one that feels more like a family bond than merely following a public figure.

My specialty does not deal directly with elderly patients with pneumonia, but during my internship, I treated many such cases. I remember how slow the recovery could be, how fragile progress was—how it could be undone in an instant if symptoms worsened. I recall the frustration of battling antibiotic-resistant bacteria, the endless cycle of adjusting treatments, and the unpredictability of the disease’s course.

A significant part of my duty was also relaying news to the families of patients once a day. Even now, as an oncologist, I must navigate the delicate balance of maintaining realistic expectations while preserving hope, of keeping optimism alive while also preparing for setbacks, knowing that the future is never certain.

That is exactly how I feel reading the twice-daily updates from the Vatican. I hang on the doctors’ every word, waiting for each new report, hoping for good news, fearing bad news, feeling relief when it is positive, and sadness when it is not.

I have no illusions—Pope Francis may not be with us for much longer. He is 88 years old, with multiple underlying health conditions. I trust that God will continue to guide His Church after Francis is gone.

But my feelings stem from concern for him personally. Like a beloved family member whose wisdom and presence I cherish, I deeply hope for his recovery, that he may return to his family—the Universal Church—once more.

This reminds me why we call those who are ill “patients”: enduring sickness requires patience. I also recall of the lyrics from a well-known song: “Hoping for the best but expecting the worst.” That is the delicate balance I was speaking of.

The key words here are “patience” and “hope”— Christian virtues, no doubt. I recall an often-overlooked encyclical by Benedict XVI, Spe Salvi, which reflects on hope. In this document, Benedict writes that prayer and suffering can be “schools of hope.” As Christians, as we suffer with and pray for the Holy Father, we are called to learn hope through this experience.

This is an act of compassion—literally, “suffering with” another. As Francis taught us, the word itself comes from the Latin com, meaning “with,” and passio, meaning “suffering.” In suffering with Pope Francis, we have an opportunity to grow in love for him, and thus in holiness, and therefore, in hope.

I believe God sent us a sign of that hope in the rainbow that appeared over the Gemelli Hospital, directly above the Pope’s room. It is a reminder that there is reason to hope, and that no matter what happens, God is in control—bringing relief and beauty even in the darkest hours.

In the meantime, I ask all who may read this to renew their prayers for the Pope. He is still not out of danger, and he is suffering. Let us take the time to pray for him with filial love for our Holy Father.

This article was originally published at Pedro Gabriel’s personal website: The Pope in the Hospital: A Lesson in Hope.


Picture credits: Christopher Lamb. x.com/ctrlamb


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Pedro Gabriel, MD, is a Catholic layman and physician, born and residing in Portugal. He is a medical oncologist, currently employed in a Portuguese public hospital. A published writer of Catholic novels with a Tolkienite flavor, he is also a parish reader and a former catechist. He seeks to better understand the relationship of God and Man by putting the lens on the frailty of the human condition, be it physical and spiritual. He also wishes to provide a fresh perspective of current Church and World affairs from the point of view of a small western European country, highly secularized but also highly Catholic by tradition.

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