Doing whatever it is that I
do day in and day out, I have a lot of time to sit, watch, and listen. These three observations come from
sitting, watching, and listening (or eavesdropping in some cases!).
#1
Okay, let’s get this out of
the way…I teared up today. At the
cancer center where Miki receives her chemo treatments, they have a tradition
where those that finish their scheduled chemo treatments ring a bell the size
of a small melon, in celebration of their personal victory. A young black woman proudly gave the
bell her best as everyone else in the infusion room applauded her
accomplishment followed by the staff lining up for hugs and well wishes. If I am tearing up now for a stranger,
I will be a mess when Miki takes her turn at The Bell.
#2
Shortly after this whole
journey began…after Miki became very dependent on me and others, then her voice
raising to the equivalent of a child’s, and then losing that thick head of
hair, she seemed to slowly take on the persona of a child. Sometimes sweet and innocent, other
times a humorous little imp. In a
way she became the child we never had.
She always says thank you for everything I and others do for her, but in
that short moment, with that little baldheaded upward glance, she has an
innocence and a gratitude about her that is priceless. I will gladly take back the Miki that I
hope replaces the little imp, but I will miss the child-like character that has
emerged.
#3
While still teaching and
usually during Parent/Teacher Conference time, when talking about the future of
a student to a worried parent and even the student themselves, I usually would
say something along the lines of…”They will figure it out and do something they
enjoy.” One of the parts of
teaching I didn’t like was the not knowing how all the kids that passed through
my door turned out in the real world.
Being at the cancer center a few times now, I have seen a number of
people that have found their passion and it is taking care of others. They figured it out. Three in particular at the cancer
center really stand out. Their
names don’t make a difference, but their actions sure do. During the few visits we have had so
far, I’ve noticed this group of nurses wearing a fair amount of different “hats.” Other than teachers, I have not
witnessed this to this degree before.
Not that there aren’t others that are this compassionate in their
professions, but I haven’t seen it on the fly as I have this week in person, while
Miki received her chemo.
The care with which they go
about their duties of hanging and administering life changing drugs just makes
this whole process that much more tolerable. To connect with a student in a nonthreatening way, I use to
kneel down to be on their level…eye to eye. These nurses don’t hesitate to sit down, eye to eye, to
connect and let their compassion lead the way in helping calm nerves,
communicate a protocol, or discuss an unpleasant side effect, with the touch of
their hand on the patient’s arm without judgement . You would think that this is automatic with someone who
chooses to give in this way, day after day. Think again.
But these ladies make everything okay. I’ve seen them share personal grandbaby stories, help a
patient work their way through severe nausea, and sit with a patient on the
verge of “losing it” as they go through what seems like an insurmountable
struggle. They make everything
okay. They put up with
“characters” that would make you blush or wet your pants, but its all good in
the end. I’m not even the “sick”
one in the room, but I feel comfortable knowing they are here and watching them
go about their business. The
business of caring. How is it in
our society a professional athlete receives millions of dollars for their
prowess and those that care for a living get a fraction of that. We’re doomed!
Thank you to those that put
a little extra into your job description that isn’t in black and white. Putting a little humanity out there,
where there wasn’t any before you.
You are why our species has lasted as long as it has.
WOW…(deep breath)…didn’t
realize I built myself a soapbox for a minute. That’s how good these people are though, that are taking
care of my Miki. No matter how
good or more importantly, how not so good Miki’s day is going, when she walks
into the infusion room, you just know that everything is going to be alright
soon, since you are made to feel like you are the one and only patient they
have for those hours you are theirs.
My Zen from Home: The first
measurement of Miki’s progress from her radiation and chemo treatments came
this week. Our Chemo doc shared
the CT scan results with us Tuesday.
I was holding out for the possibility on the off chance that it would
show nothing…literally…no tumors where there were some before. I got part of my wish, because a few of
the smaller “shadows” were gone! The progress on the other major
players, were not quite as clearly defined, due to how they are measured at
Centerpoint, where the first scan was taken and this scan taken at our cancer
center. Kind of like driving in
rush hour traffic…some forward progress is better than sitting still in the
middle of an interstate.
Rorschach Test...what do you see?
I see a nun in her habit...okay not a typical habit, but imagine it in black and white.
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