THE COWBOY AND CHEMO

October 17

So today for my Facebook Family daily Month of October post I want to share one of the chapters in my book: Transitions:A Nurse's Education About Life and Death. Chapter 21, page 55 - The Cowboy and Chemo. I thought I'd blog it and share with you as well. Peace and Love and Light to each of you!!

One of the best bits of wisdom shared by more than one of my patients over the years was a question posed to me like this: "What kind of footprints do you want to leave behind on this Earth?"

I was working in an Oncology Outpatient Clinic in Tulsa at the time I first heard those words.  Samuel was in a brown faux leather recliner with his swollen feet propped up while I was studying his compromised veins for one suitable enough to start an IV that would carry the caustic chemo to him safely.

He was quieter than usual and seemed to me to be "dealing" with something that day, more than where he was going to go after his chemo.  He rarely had any nausea and wanted to go out to eat while in the "big city".

I found the precious vein and got the IV going.  I put on my gown and gloves, started the pre-meds, and was arranging my little bedside table with his chemo, tape, and a syringe when he spoke.
"Becki, what kind of footprints do you want to leave behind on this Earth?"

"Huh?" I looked up a little surprised and asked.

"Well, I been thinking.  Just in case this doesn't come out okay and I might be headin' out of here sooner than later, I was wondering what I might be remembered for while I've been on this ole Earth.

"The only words my neighbor on the west end of the farm ever hears from me is me cussing those cows on a regular basis.  My wife's Mother sees me leave the room right quick when she comes over for another visit.  My kids seldom hear a word out of me less it's aggravating them about stuff like, 'Did you do your homework? Did you feed those steers?  Did you close that gate?  Did you help your mother with getting that feed sack out of the trunk of the car?  And all I ever do in church is walk in, sit on the back pew, give them a couple of dollars, and leave before the preacher quits saying his final prayer.  Nice guy, but he sure like to hear himself talk!"

"Why Samuel, you've always been very nice to all of us up here", I said.  "I can't imagine you've left too many bad footprints." I said as I patted his other hand.

"Oh, shucks, who's gonna be rude to you girls! You have the needles!" he said with a huge grin.

"Okay then, Samuel, what would you do different?" I asked while slowly infusing the medications.

"Well, that is what I've been dwelling on here lately.  I'm not a religious sort of fella by any means, but I do like God.  I think God is okay.  I've just never been too fond of some church folk and some ministers.  They aren't all bad, but some of  'em talk outta both sides of their mouths!

But now I'm rethinking a little.  Church isn't for perfect people.  There aren't any. Church is for all of us that want to go there. I might cuss a little and the person next to me might be a self-righteous snob.  We BOTH can sit on that pew.  I'm going to work on not judging any of them anymore and I'm going to start putting a five dollar bill in that collection plate! And I'm gonna let that preacher shake my hand before I run out that door.

"And I've decided I'm going to quit yelling at my kids.  I want them to have some good memories of me.  I'm going to make an effort to sit down with all the family at dinner instead of eating in front of that TV with my old Roy Rogers TV tray.  They're good kids.  And I couldn't have a better wife.  I need to tell her that, I reckon.

"Now it might take me a few days to improve on hanging out with my mother-in-law some more, but she too means well.  She's not a really bad sort.

"And I think I'm going to drive the pick-up truck over to the neighbor's house and tell him how much I appreciate him chopping that ice on the pond for my cows a few weeks ago when the kids were in school and my wife was at work.  I didn't have the energy to swing an axe.  He just got out there and did that for me and never said a word about it.  I hope I'd have done the same for him.

"Another reason I started in thinking about all of this was because we went to a funeral the other day and there was standing room only in that little church house.

"I can tell you right here and now that our friend was making the finest footprints here on Earth you've ever heard tell of.  Not a soul didn't like him and respect him.  There's never been a doubt about how he felt about his God and his family and his community.  And same goes for his church and his neighbors.  He had a dairy farm, wasn't wealthy by any means, worked from sun up to sun down and still took the time to share what he had with others, whether it was milk or green beans or corn or okra or tomatoes from the garden.  You should have heard the testimonies given at that service.  His preacher hardly had a chance to preach due to so many needing to say what this man meant to them.

"I was sitting there on that back pew in that service embarrassed to think, 'Who'd stand up for me?'


I just sat there after finishing the chemo and glanced around the room.  Not a dry eye was to be seen.  The four other patients in recliners and their family members were blotting their eyes with Kleenex.

I pulled him up close and whispered, "Do you know what you have done for so many today with this visit?  You have preached one of the finest sermons any one of us has ever heard! You, my dear friend, have left GOLDEN footprints here today."

He quietly got up after I put a band aide on his IV site. He put on his sweat-stained cowboy hat, politely nodded at all those he passed, and went to the elevator.



So often these dear souls made me think, 'How do I want to be remembered?'

THE POWER OF TOUCH

I was working in a smaller big city hospital in the outpatient oncology department many years ago. We had been giving Jim chemo for a big cancer in his brain.  He made me smile every time he got off the elevator with his wife.  He was over six feet tall and weighted over 250 pounds (in the beginning), and his face was a rosy color with a huge smile.  He always wore bib overalls, a plaid short-sleeved flannel cotton shirt, and worn lace-up boots.  Jim's wife, Belle, followed him with pride and said less than he did.

"Good morning, girls! Who wants to draw my blood today?" he beamed like it was an honor.

"I will! It's my turn.  Come over here and sit in this recliner and we'll get started," I said eagerly.

The great thing was how large and giving his veins were.  The scary thing was that after I got the blood in the tube, white matter rose to the top of the blood.  I had never seen that before meeting him. The other nurse working there, who had been my mentor when I first starting my career, told me that it was fat in his blood.  She said, "Becki, we aren't worrying about that at this point. We are just trying to slow down his tumor's growth.  He knows, but he still stays positive and cheerful."

And of course she said this to me away from ear shot.

So, every week he came for his lab work and his chemotherapy for four weeks and then he would have a week off.  Never once did I not see him smile getting off that elevator.  But, as time passed, he quit wearing his lace-up boots and instead wore his house shoes.  His overalls were hanging on him.  Nonetheless, he kept showing up with his positive attitude.

He was admitted to the hospital for a blood transfusion and IV antibiotics for an infection he couldn't get rid of with oral antibiotics.  I headed up the back stairs to go check on him one afternoon after we had finished seeing patients.  I peeked into his room to see if he was sleeping.  He turned and smiled.  "Come on in here.  How is everyone downstairs? Look at this mess I'm into up here.  They are giving me blood in one arm and medicine in this arm and now they're wantin' to give me some drink to help me gain some strength and weight. That stuff tastes really bad! I don't think too many folk that need it are going to like it.  They better come up with something a mite different." His wife grinned and shook her head.

"So, how are you feeling?" I asked as I sat on the edge of his bed and took his hand.  His wife got up and excused herself to go down to the cafeteria.

"Well, to tell the truth, I'm a little concerned, but my faith is strong, and I know my Lord will see me through this, one way or the other.  You can't throw your faith out the window if everything isn't going exactly like you want it to.  God has never turned his back on me and I'm not turning my back on him.  And, truly, I think these doctors have given me and the wife some more time.  But, before I forget it, I want to tell you what a joy it has been for me to come see you girls all this time, even though it was for treating my cancer.  I looked forward to every visit and getting to talk to those other patients and their families.

"The thing I want to say is this.  Thank you for treating me like I was the most important patient you had every visit.  Now I know you girls treat everyone of us like that.  But no one but my wife has ever touched my hand with as much compassion as you girls do.  Some of the kinfolk have acted like I have a contagious disease, and act like they might catch my cancer from me, if they hugged me or shook my hand.  Isn't that the strangest thing?  Bless their hearts.  They don't know no better. Somebody ought to write a book for the public to have a better idea of how to treat their friends or neighbors or family who has cancer."

I leaned over and with as much gentleness as possible, hugged him, and kissed his flushed cheeks.  He smiled from ear to ear.  "Aw, Becki, thanks.  Thanks for everything." I nodded and said, "No, thank you.  You have been such a gift to us downstairs.  You bring such positive energy everywhere you show up! You have blessed us and the other patients.  God's love is beaming out of your whole body."

"Aw, Becki, shucks.  Don't go on like that.  It's embarrassing." He grinned from ear to ear with a brighter red face now.

We prayed together and I slowly made my way back down the stairs. I was praying that all of us would remember not to be afraid to pat a hand, touch a shoulder, give a Holy Hug when appropriate.

THE UNEXPECTED

It was a lovely day in Vancouver and we were looking forward to a visit to Granville Island to explore the market, examine and be awed by the vintage boat show, relax and stroll around in the perfect weather.

The water taxi carried us to our destination and we scrambled up the steps and began our tour. The flowers were intoxicating, the arts and crafts didn't disappoint, the booths were endless it seemed with exceptional art, food, crafts, coffees....you name it!

As be began to make our way down to the water taxi station suddenly a sound rang out like a cannon had been shot. I twirled around to find my husband. Was it a gun? Was it part of a show? What was that noise?

Then everyone was screaming and pointing toward the water before us. There was the body of a gentleman floating on top of the water with his shoes next to him. I was trying to take it all in. Then my husband pulled me close. He had seen him hit the water and his shoes fly off. He had jumped from the bridge above us, a very tall bridge.

"But let's do something! Let's swim out to him! Maybe he's not gone yet! Somebody help!" These were mine and others near me, words. But the people in charge of the water taxi tried to help everyone understand the Coast Guard was on the way and we were not to jump in the water. One man was furious screaming at the young girl, "Why won't you motor out to the man and pull him out of the water? Why won't someone do something before the Coast Guard gets here?" He was storming up the stairs back to the market.

I returned my gaze to the man right there before us. He was whiter than white, no sign of air movement, just slightly bobbing there now next to the edge of the island. We were urged to get on our taxi. The young lady suddenly broke down and starting sobbing and sobbing. I pulled her close and said, "It's not your fault that the man was so mad. He didn't know who else to yell at.  You were doing your job. All we can do now is pray for that dear man's soul as his angels escort him home where he will find the healing he so desperately was perhaps seeking on this side."

We got on our taxi boat and decided to pray as we passed the body as the Coast Guard was arriving and moving near him to pull him onto their boat. We prayed for him, for the young girl, for the crowd, for the man's family and friends. And then we did our very best to continue our day.

It took me hours to snap out of it. And then days, many days, before I quit seeing him.

I don't know the specific statistics on suicide but even one is too many it seems to me. These dear people cannot see any light at the end of their tunnel for whatever reason and are seeking relief.

My brother had a NDE a year before he died with cancer.  In that NDE a very dear friend of his who had committed suicide just the year before, appeared to my brother smiling, along with our Mother. It wasn't time for my brother to stay.

But, seeing his friend there, smiling, in the Light gave my brother a new hope. There are other stories of those who say they have been to Heaven and that those who do commit suicide are received by loving angels who escort them to a special place of healing. I cannot prove that, but I like the sound of it.

I looked for the incident in the newspaper the next morning and watched the local news to see if he had been identified. Nothing ever was said. I wanted to know if he was younger than he looked, and if he had a family, or if he had been ill, or....?? "The conversation rambled in my head and my heart, "Who are you? I am so sorry?"  I asked the hotel concierge about this.  They said that it is, sadly, not uncommon for people to jump from their very tall bridges there. They said that perhaps the authorities have decided its best not to report these tragedies on the news for many reasons.

Vancouver is one of my very favorite places to visit. It will continue to be so.  The unexpected arrives in front of us all over the globe sometimes.  But so does random sheer joy, sunsets that seem heavenly painted, a hug that melts our hearts... It's called Life.

AN EXPERIENCE BEFORE A MOTHER'S DEATH

I am so blessed to receive emails from a few of those who have viewed my talk in Sedona, Arizona, (filmed by David Sunfellow, NHNE-NDE, who had invited me to speak,) on You-Tube (Becki Hawkins/Nurse Shares 30 Years).

A couple of days ago a gentleman from the UK sent me the email below.  I asked for his permission to share it with you. "By all means!" he said.

"Hello Becki.  I just happened across one of your videos on YouTube and it moved me so much that I wanted to share with you my experiences before my Mum's death in January this year.

I don't want to go into details, but Mum had a terrible final six months of life before she died.  She ended up having a severe stroke which left her more or less immobile and she spent the last five weeks of her life in a hospital bed.  As a result of the stroke she was unconscious most of the time, growing ever weaker because she couldn't swallow enough food to stay alive.  She was put on what was called the Liverpool Pathway, which is palliative care only treatment for patients who have no hope of recovering.

When it was clear the end was approaching, my sister, wife and I decided we would take turns staying 24/7 with Mum in hospital because she always said she didn't want to die alone.  Four days before she died I was staying with her overnight.  She was physically very weak at that point, had been unconscious for a long time and didn't respond in any meaningful way to our voices or touch.  About 2 am her eyes suddenly opened real wide and a big smile came across her face.  She tried to lift herself up, held her right arm out and waved towards the corner of the room which was dimly lit at the time.  I could see her lips moving like she was talking to someone but there were no words coming out.  Then she said, quite clearly, 'No, not yet' and then, after a short pause, 'Bye' before closing her eyes and falling back into unconsciousness.  I want to stress that, up to this point she hadn't been able to move unless the nurses moved her and certainly hadn't spoken proper words for a long time.  Two days later I was staying overnight again and, at around the same time, the same thing happened.  This time she said, 'Hiya' and then 'Yes'.  Mum died the next day.

I decided to tell my sister about what had happened.  I hadn't done so previously because she was an emotional wreck and I didn't want to upset her even more.  She went very quiet and told me that she had had the same experience when she overnighted with Mum between my two experiences.

Mum wasn't on any sedation or painkillers when this happened and neither of us saw any sign of what she was seeing.  I don't know who came for her on each of those three occasions and why she wanted to hold on the first time.  Maybe she just wanted to spend a little longer with her family around her."

This is one of the reasons I write and speak and share stories. Sharing the stories helps others to not fear death!!

I am so grateful for his email!!

HOW THE COW EATS THE CABBAGE OR ELSE!

Back when I was driving all over creation seeing patients in 4 counties, I found myself one day seeing a lovely lady in a small NE Oklahoma rural community. Her name was Mary Catherine and she was living in a storybook looking home! It had white clapboard siding with pinkish red shutters and a porch swing on the west side of the porch.  There were flowers lining the stepping stone walkway to the antique front door.  It had an oval beveled glass front and was painted just a shade lighter than the shutters.  A late spring breeze carried the scent of peonies to my senses and made me smile all over.  Visions of my Grandma's flowerbed jumped forefront to my thoughts.  Then I heard her, "Come on in, door's unlatched."

Oh! The inside was as charming as the outside.  There was flowered wallpaper from the '40's on the walls and there was a china cabinet with pink, cranberry, and green Depression era glass inside.  There she sat in her overstuffed winged back rocking chair that also had a flowered print on it. She had just the prettiest white hair all pulled back and up, and she was wearing a flannel rose-colored gown with a ruffled apron with maroon rickrack on the top of it.  She was holding her TV remote in the pocket on one side and the panic alert button for help, if she needed it, in the other pocket.

"Well, come on in, nurse.  As you can see, I'm surrounded with all these dishes and antiques, and I'm sorting out what goes to which child and grandchild and niece or nephew.  I've got a friend who is going to come over after a bit and put them in their designated boxes. You'd think that this would depress me terribly bad, but it has been a good morning. I'm enjoying looking over each piece and remembering when I got it and what was going on when me and Henry bought it.  Bless him.  He's been gone nearly twenty-five years now.

"I know you have come to check my vital signs and see how my ticker's doing.  But, before you do anything else, I want you to sit on that embroidered footstool, not that leather one, it's wobbly, and let me inform you about how the cow eats the cabbage 'round here!

"I've been up there in that big city hospital for several days and about a month ago before that.  You see my heart is wearing out.  I've died twice and they shocked the snot out of me and brought me back both times! I've told them as plain as I could before I left that ICU room that they're not to do that anymore.  I was already having the blessing of seeing Heaven and feeling the peace and love that we don't have here on this side, when BAM! I'm back in my old clay body and feeling all that pain and bother. Lordy!

I'm too old and feeble for a heart transplant.  I don't want any surgery or another pacemaker or another valve replacement.  I want to go on.  It'll happen again and, when it does, if anyone does that Code Blue stuff on me and puts me on that dang breathing machine, I'll haunt them when I do get to die!"

I listened and wrote everything down.  My supervisor had already told me that she didn't want any CPR but that she was home to die.  But, this dear woman needed to spit that information out and make sure that everyone knew she meant business.

Her heart was very weak but her spirit was strong, and she worked hard on those belongings.  A friend and a neighbor and a niece came to help her label all of it and box it up before I left while she was dozing quietly in her chair.

I was scheduled to visit again the next day and help her with some laundry and some skin care as well as the assessment of her overall status.  I'd planned to go out and cut some of those flowers and put them in one of her antique Roseville pottery vases for her chair side table.  But as I was making out my schedule for the day we received a call from her family.  The neighbor found her that morning in her chair.  She was gone.

I couldn't help but smile.  She and Henry were together again.

How would you spend your last hours?


This is a chapter from my book, Transitions: A Nurse's Education about Life and Death
Available on my website: www.ladyhawkpublishing.com and Amazon

ALL THAT MATTERED

When I drove into his long, winding, pearl chat driveway, the multicolored crepe myrtles, hollyhock and purple flocks were waving in the early July heat and breeze.  His ducks and geese were dunking for food below the pond's surface.

I found myself wondering what kind of mood Tom would be in that day.  I took a deep breath and began mustering up courage to welcome his crankiness or his cleverness, whatever he would pitch my way.

He'd admitted to me out loud, more than once, that he was not happy about 'checking out' yet. "I need more time to come to grips with this!" he said on my previous visit.

I prayed while gathering my supplies to do wound care on the chest lesion from lung cancer that refused to stay in his chest.  When I knocked on the back screen door that entered into their utility room, he yelled out, "Why do you always knock? Come on in! And let Tom Cat out in the process."

His wife passed away the year before so he had been living alone until he came home from the hospital. His sister from Kansas came to stay with him until he regained some strength, or not.  I'm not too sure either one of them was tremendously fond of the other, but for now, it was working out to help keep him home.

Lou Ellen was in the kitchen making coffee and biscuits and gravy in case this is a day he'll eat a bite. She nodded  and offered coffee and returned to her sanctuary in the tiny kitchen.

I approached his bed with caution.  "Good Morning, Tom! How's that new pain med working for you?"

"It's actually helping and I appreciate it.  Taking the edge off that pain makes me less cranky...I haven't yelled at Lou Ellie (his name for her) in over an hour."

"Set your stuff down on that recliner," he continued, "and don't rush me this morning.  I'm enjoying watching those geese and ducks splash around in the pond.  Did you happen to see them on your way in?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," I answered while pulling up a chair where we could hear each other better.

The 'air' is different today, and I can tell we've entered some new territory.

He eyeballs me carefully, "What are you doing here?' he asked with all sincerity.

"What do you mean?  Like my cleaning and redressing your chest wound? Or checking on your pain control? Or..."

"No! I mean what are you doing here, in life, on Earth, with your time. And your space."

"Hold that thought! I changed my mind.  I'm getting that cup of coffee from Lou Ellen.  And while I'm fetching it, keep talking to me.  What are you really asking me?" I said while retrieving the coffee from his sister who was around the corner listening; she had already poured me a cup!

"Well, I've been trying to do a little introspection about how I've taken up space here, how good a steward I've been with my time allotment, my talents or skills, my money, and such," he answered as he scratched his chin.

"I'm dying and I'm sorry I haven't done a better job.  I let bitterness set in when my wife died last year and I've wasted good light in a day.  I could have been helping out at the church she loved so much, or given some money to that schoolhouse where she volunteered, or to that dang animal shelter where she carried in dog food and the like. That's where we got ole' Tom Cat.

"And you see this all the time, and I was wondering if all you do is work.  When I was your age, I thought that was all that mattered: make a dollar, save a dollar.  Okay, that's enough talking. Let's get this bandage off."

And that was all he said about that ever again.  That was in the 1980's.  I didn't fully appreciate it then.

 I was too busy working!

FIRECRACKERS, FRITO CHILI PIE AND FUN!! OH MY!!

I grew up with my three siblings and parents in a small northeast Oklahoma town.  We thought the 4th of July was the hit of the summer.  We didn't spend a great deal of money on fireworks but we did get to buy sparklers, firecrackers, smoke bombs and the like.

Daddy would head out to the firecracker stand and eye the products. He has always been good about getting the most for your money.  We lined up close by and peered over the counter to look at the bounty before us, seeming like a candy store or looking in a department store window in December. It would make us little kids shudder with pure joy.

We had strict rules to follow: don't get near the hay meadow, don't burn yourself, don't hold onto the firecracker too long, don't chase the dogs with them and don't light the sparklers on the cook stove in the house.  Well, we followed most of them. One 4th we sneaked into the house when Mama and Daddy were busy with something at the barn.  We were hoping to light our sparklers early without any hint of us being near Mama's cook stove.  We did it! And we burned little holes right into the linoleum floor! Never did that again!!

The dogs would hightail it under the car or the pickup or try to get under the beds in the house.  But we were having the time of our summer lives.  Mama would fix us a special treat.  She'd cut open little packages of Fritos and put chili on top with shredded cheese.  We'd get to have little bottles of soda pop and usually we had homemade ice cream.  We took turns turning the handle with huge anticipation of the cold dessert taking shape.

Daddy would load up the family as dark approached and head to a smaller community by the lake and we would line ourselves up and down the rock wall awaiting the Big fireworks display! There was a carnival going on at the same time and we might ride a few rides, but our main objective was to see the magic in the sky!!

When we got home we were often too tired to light anymore fireworks or twirl a sparkler in the dark making circles and trying to write our names.  But we always believed there would be next year.

What kind of memories are you making this 4th? Enjoy!! My patients taught me that it's all, every day, a chance to make good memories with those you love.  Hug the babies, pull out the flags, and tell stories about your own childhood July 4th picnics and swimming! Tell the little ones what the 4th of July stands for in the United States.  And if they are old enough tell them what religious liberty means to you.  And for Pete's sake don't light your sparklers in the kitchen! AND wear your life jackets and be safe!!

My Brother's Keeper

I am writing this on June 23, 2014, and it is the 5th year since my brother 'transitioned' to Heaven.  I don't use the words 'died' or 'passed away' as much as I did before.  I don't believe the real us dies.  I believe we are spiritual beings who for a very short time (even if you live to be 110) are dwelling in physical bodies, clay vessels until it is time to return 'Home'.

I was the oldest of 4 children.  He was the youngest. I was born in 1951 and he was born 1956.  I wrote about some of our story and titled it, My Brother's Keeper, as the final chapter in my book, Transitions: A Nurse's Education About Life and Death.  Yes, it was the hardest chapter to write. I had kept a journal during those two previous years of his diagnosis, tests, hospital visits, chemo, radiation, his NDE a year before he transitioned, our conversations during car rides, etc.  Because I knew that one day I would have the courage to write about it. But at the time I would hurriedly post a daily entry if I had the time and close the notebook to avoid dwelling on it.  In my head it was as if there were bits and scraps of papers with all these memories floating in the air around me and falling on the floor of my consciousness with whispers of "no, not now, not yet...wait till later."

Just this morning I was remembering that morning 5 years ago.  I was staying with him at our Dad's home.  I had been spending the night with them for the previous 10 days. Daddy and I were up and down so much that night making attempts to get Jeffrey comfortable.  I was trying my best to keep him out of pain with the prescribed medications and to keep him comfortable with gently turning him from side to side when he continued to toss and turn or moan. There were moments he would seem to be settling down and breathing easier and then he would use all his strength and pull himself up.  At one point the night before he had done this and turned to me and smiled and said, "Are you a nurse? Are you staying with us?"

"Yes", I said, "I am spending the night with you. I won't leave." And with that he went back to sleep.

But this last night into the wee hours of the morning he struggled. I would whisper to him as I gently stroked his wrinkled brow, "Brother, it's OK to go. Mom will meet you. Look for the light. You are so loved, do not fear."

And then as morning arrived he simply quit the fight.

Those of you who have been there know what I mean when I say that I was filled with relief and heartbreak all in the same moment.  Relief that he wasn't suffering anymore and relief that someone else, his angels and others, on the other side were now my brother's keeper.  And yet, the letting go, the handing over his care, his protection, guiding his fight to live for especially those past 2 years was choking me in waves of tears and trying to be brave as I allowed raw grief to have her say.

I believe without a doubt we will spend much more time together some day.  I sense his presence often, not as much as in the beginning but he still checks in on me.  He still has a sense of humor.  He encourages me. He is so very happy.  And I believe also that he will be one of those in my 'welcome home' group when I make my transition!

Thank you Brother for the honor of being one of your big sisters! Today I will choose to remember the good times, the belly aching laughter, your love of animals, your curiosity about history and the universe, your pride in your daughter and the way you would light up when you got to see your grandchildren, your tenderness and your toughness, your love for your AA buddies and so much more!

You may have been the youngest of us 4 but in many ways you were the wisest!

Until we meet again!

OUR INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS

It was in the spring of the early 1990's and I was visiting a delightful spit-fire of a woman battling cancer, stage 4. I'd come to understand that each one of us decides, if possible, whether we want to keep fighting even after the doctor says it's time to switch to Hospice, focus on comfort and being with the family. I respect every one's decision even if it wouldn't be mine.  Life and death and grief are just as individual as a personality.  Suffering is very personal.

This dear soul's attitude was, "I'm not done until I'm done with my fighting."  And that was even after the doctor explained to her in the beginning of treatments that her prognosis with this aggressive cancer was poor.  She never took those words to heart. "Who does he think he is? God? Hells Bells, we'll go down fighting."

She looked like an actor that might have been on True Grit who would have competed with John Wayne's character! She had purpose in every step she took and she called all the shots!

"I am not skipping the Wednesday evening's prayer meeting just because that doctor told me that my white count isn't where it's supposed to be.  Fiddle sticks, I can't miss! There's a new minister coming to our church and I need to lay my eyes on him, put my hands on him and listen to what he has to say.  I gauge them by how firm their handshake is and I can tell by watching the way they talk if they are stretching the truth. You can see so much in the way a fella holds himself in a crowd and behind the pulpit."

I didn't argue with her.  She knew more about her blood counts and the risks involved than most.  How on earth would I have tried to stop her?!! She knew what lay ahead.

Within a few days I was visiting her at her home.  A black and white photo of her was hanging on the flowered wallpapered living room wall.  Wow! She was a beauty queen in her day!  But, especially now, to me, she was even more radiant.

"I'm at peace," she whispered to me while fighting waves of nausea. Sweet peace has come.  It's OK now."

"Shh", I said while trying to arrange sheets and blankets and pillows...anything I could think of to be nearer to her and hang on to those fleeting moments.  I really wanted her to sit up again and tell me everything.  Tell me her life story, her loves, her joys, her disappointments.

I longed for an over sized rocker so I could hold her and rock her back and forth and say, "..and then what happened?"

Her life was such a witness to so many and for so many reasons.  But it was her dying that bore witness to me.  She feared nothing. I whispered to her, "Hear the words of Paul, "...that the eyes of your heart and spirit may be enlightened in order that you may know the hope of which you have been called to by Jesus Christ, the riches of His glorious inheritance..".  She liked Paul.

"In other words dear friend, I pray you now receive glimpses of Glory as angels escort you Home.  Well done, well done."

WHICH RELIGION?

They gathered in the board room to discuss the evening's agenda. Some of the men were standing at the windows looking down 20 plus floors at the streets and the evening's traffic jams.  Some were sitting in their chairs drumming their pencils, making small talk about the weather and world wide predictions of global warming.

They were religious leaders from different backgrounds. The chairman of the board walked to the head of the table and stood behind his chair. His white hair was neatly combed and his stylish colorful tie had been pulled off and was laying across his chair.

"OK, I'll start with you Bill. What is your complaint with this young man that has created this disgruntlement within our committee?" He began as he continued to stand and pace slowly around the table.

Bill began without hesitation, "Well to start with he hasn't joined any of our congregations."

Many were nodding in agreement as the men took turns speaking out.

"And we aren't sure he even confesses he knows God the way we do." Fred joined in.

Each one stated their concerns while Samuel strolled around the room. He returned to his chair and spoke. "This is what I'd like for each of you to do, separately. I want you to follow him without him noticing you are anywhere nearby.  Observe his behavior, his connections, his purchases, where he likes to go everyday and then we will return here to discuss this further in two weeks."

Everyone agreed this was a great idea. Off they went to follow Alex.

As they had agreed they returned to the boardroom in two weeks. The chairman was sitting down in his chair this time. He began the meeting with a prayer. Then he began the questioning.

"I'd like to have each one of you state where you followed him to and what you observed. That is all. I don't want any commentary. Let's just start with the facts."

Bill: "I followed him to a nursing home. He was visiting an elderly woman who had just been admitted there, I found out, a few days before. I saw him praying with her."

Sam: "I followed him to a non-denominational ministry center and watched him help receive those who were filing inside to get some food and some clothes. He was cheerful and non-judgmental to each one and he was making the other volunteers laugh with some sharing of his life, etc."

Fred: "I followed him to a Hospice House. He went inside to visit a young man who was dying with AIDS.  He held him close, spoke without judgment, prayed with him and stayed there until that young man passed away a couple of hours later."

Jim:  "I followed him to a school where he had been invited to read to some lst graders. The book he was reading was about not bullying but accepting everyone no matter what their clothes looked like or how their bodies might be different, some perhaps with ambulatory difficulties, speech challenges, etc."

John:  "I followed him to recycle center where he was deep in trash and plastic bottles and cans and glass. He was whistling and humming some tune.  He never seemed to mind sorting through all that mess."

George:  "I followed him to a hillside overlooking the city. He seemed to be meditating. His eyes were closed and he was completely still in the same position for over 20 minutes. And after that he got up and went to an animal shelter where he volunteered walking the dogs and brushing some cats and playing with some kittens. He cleaned some of the empty pens and got fresh water for all of them."

The chairman spoke up again. "Did any of you see him in your church?"

All the men stated that he had donated some money to their churches. And one of the men said he was aware of him donating to the Chamber of Commerce, Red Cross, their local library, a group that helps with scholarships, and a place that harbors women needing a safe house to stay in for awhile. Each one also admitted that he had visited their church at least once in the past year.

The chairman began, "So, can anyone tell me what religion you think he might profess?"

The eldest of the group slowly rose to his feet. "I haven't been watching this young man just the past few days. I've been observing him ever since he arrived here after hearing him in a conversation at the coffee shop. And after listening to all of you I think I've clearly decided that the religion he follows is LOVE."

Meeting was adjourned.

THE REWARD OF WALKING

My exercise of choice is walking. I walk an hour a day if it's not raining or snowing or too windy or too hot. So I don't guess you could say I do it for my health or I'd be out there everyday! But when I do walk, I thoroughly enjoy it!

We live in a relatively small town, about 12,000, give or take. I've been here nearly all my life so I'm not a stranger to many. People who know me aren't surprised to see me stop and hug or pat a tree. I also like to visit with some residents sitting out in their yard or on their porch. I've made friends with some dogs along my path as well.

Last week I had an especially good walk. Not too windy or warm or raining gave me a spring in my step. I stopped by to visit a dear family who were gently, lovingly, sitting at vigil with a loved one who was nearing transition. I had the honor to love on them with a few hugs, a few words and some encouragement.

Not too far down the road from them I stopped by to visit a darling couple who were sitting in their driveway. The husband was sitting in his lawn chair holding one of the cutest little dogs I've ever seen. Their previous dog had just departed and so he said he went to the animal shelter and took a tour and there he was, the prettiest pup on the place. "Well, what are you doing here?" That's what he said when he saw him. Needless to say he adopted him. He is adorable! I held him as I chatted with the couple about how they were training him to not chase their chickens and not chase the neighborhood cats because they do not want him to get under a car! I'm telling you right now that if I thought I could have run fast enough, I would have snatched that darling dog up and took off. He really is that cute!! But he's in good hands and I could see how very happy they were with him.

On down and around the corner I ran into a gentleman I've known since the 1980's.  I was thrilled to see him. He's been taking some powerful chemotherapy and it was good to see him out and about.
He shared with me about his latest doctor visits and how he was progressing and then also shared how he realized that there is always someone in worse shape than we are.

I told him that I remembered when I was working in outpatient oncology there would be patients that would share those same words with me. One of my patients was rail thin, weak as a kitten, having a hard time getting her wig to stay on her head. But she was the one who went to each patient in the waiting room and would see if they needed anything, ask them how they were tolerating their treatments, and then would often share a story, a joke, and nearly always a prayer. She taught me so much about suffering.

Only about a block away from there I stopped to visit with a dog I befriended a couple of years ago. He is always happy to see me. I lean over his fence gate and rub his ears and tell him how pretty he is and he does that dog grin. His owner found him in a McDonald's parking lot, abandoned. He could tell right away that he was a very good dog to take home! Yea!! I've been given permission to bring him a toy every now and then and a little dog treat. He has the uncanny way of making me feel like the most wonderful human on Earth. But I know he acts that way about everybody!

I decided I did need to stop and hug my favorite tree and I didn't care who might question my senses! These walks are like exercise and prayer and meditation and group therapy all rolled up into one activity.

Yes, there are many sad and crazy things we hear on the nightly news. But there are also so many beautiful things happening at the same time. Let me encourage you to skip the news every now and then and take a walk in a park, or alongside a lake or pond or especially on a beach if you are blessed enough to live close to one! Take some deep breaths, marvel at the gift of a flower in bloom with a bee or dragonfly dancing in its pollen, hear the sound of a child's laughter, observe the dog's abandon of rules in running and jumping to catch a Frisbee. It's not all bad folks, not always.

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH

It was 1992 and I was visiting patients and their families all over the county.  I particularly enjoyed visiting these two cuties!

They were a team by every definition of the word. All day, every day, meal time, laundry days, housework days, yard work...side by side! Inseparable, that is until now.

Six months ago the doctors only allowed him to return home because he insisted, "But you won't last two weeks," they warned.

"Well that's two weeks at home instead of here.  I want to look outside my window, not yours.  I want to eat or choose not to eat my wife's cooking, not yours.  We don't have 'no visitors' signs at our home.  And the air smells better at our home.  And my pets can sleep on my bed with me! No offense to you docs and I thank you that you've been kind enough to tell me the truth. There's more opportunity for alone time for me and Marie at our house," Henry said.

Who else but his beloved Marie would refine his constant bedside care into an art form?  Together they learned and performed the necessary tasks at hand.  They knew more, much more than I did in this specialty and rarely did they need me.  But let me assure you that I was tickled pink when they asked me to come see them.

Oh my! They made me feel like a royal guest!  They demonstrated such gratitude for any instruction or suggestion or advice.

And all was well, for a while.

More than once a loved one would remind him that he had promised long ago to outlive every one of them.  He was living it up way past the two weeks the doctors had predicted.  Neighbors and family were making a steady stream through that back screen door carrying in food, flowers, stories, laughter and total respect when it came time to let them both rest.  There were more prayers prayed in that tiny house than I'd ever heard before.  He was so tolerant of so many needing to tell him what he meant to them.

"Don't you think this is better than folk waiting till I'm gone to come over here, Becki?  It's kind of like a pre-funeral.  And I get to be here for it!

Funny thing is, I was still a bit surprised when that last call came.  How long did I think he could continue to stay with us?

"Will you come over now Becki?"

Of course I would! But I could not find my professional face. My tears were blinding me as I drove in the twilight hours to be with them.  Wasn't I thankful that his silent suffering would end?  Wasn't I thankful he would be seeing Jesus soon?"

I did not know how I would speak intelligent or professional words for choking back grief's grasp on my throat!  Grief for whom? For him? Well, yes and no.

How could I grieve with the sight of peace on his face and knowing they'd had God's gift of six more precious months, knowing his silent suffering was now forever done?

No, it was more for her! The faithful one I'd witnessed so valiantly, so eagerly, so lovingly, so tirelessly, give it all she had and then some more day after day to be the best nurse he'd ever had, the best wife, the best friend.

You see, he not only made me feel special, he made everyone feel that way.

Over and over these patients reminded me. What do we want to be remembered for? A major contribution to your town? Inventing a cure for a disease? Solving world hunger? Having the highest SAT score on record?
No?

Better yet, that we may be remembered as my friend was.  Someone who loved God and loved his neighbors as himself.

Someone who made everyone feel special.

FAMILY REUNION

Often many of us neglect to connect with family, near and/or far.  We are busy we say.  and we also say, "I'd rather golf. I need to attend an important business meeting.  It's too far to travel.  I don't really have anything in common with those people anymore." Etc., etc.!!

When my sister-n-law told us she was putting together a family reunion with my husband's grandmother's siblings' children I thought, "Well, I won't know any of these people. Maybe I should stay home and catch up on...something?"

We arrived Friday evening at the darling Lee's Resort on Grand Lake O' The Cherokees in northeast Oklahoma.  The resort is perched high upon a bluff overlooking the lake.  Oklahoma spring winds were creating a rainfall of pollen and oak droppings. There were multiple shades of green everywhere.  Small water fountains, a man-made flowing stream, flowerbeds with name tags of what was planted and who lovingly planted it caught my attention.  We each had our own quaint little cabin and were warmly greeted by the owners in the 'cook shack'.  And I must say the breakfast hash browns were the best I've ever tasted in my life!

My husband's grandmother was one of 8 siblings.  So it was hard for me to keep track of who was from which sibling.  Soon, it didn't matter anymore.  We became one.  Stories were flowing from childhood memories, weddings, funerals, and the grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary.  These precious cousins were arriving from California, Louisiana, Texas, Oregon, Kansas, Colorado, Maryland and our lovely state capitol. One dear group of siblings had a sister and brother who had not seen one another in 17 years!! What a reunion that was!!!

I loved just watching all of them laugh, shed a few tears, nod in agreement and share, "Remember the time..?"

There were many activities: fishing, boating, sea-do riding, walking, cooking, and a skit from an old Jack Parr show enacted! There were wee ones, toddles, adolescents, lovebirds, and us older folk.

I also especially enjoyed hearing some stories begin with, "Our Mother..."

The really fun part was the sharing of photos from 'back when'.  Each person brought family photo albums or boxes of photos from childhood or before.  Those 8 siblings were beautiful and brilliant and each had a great sense of humor it seemed.  An old movie that was filmed by my husband's uncle in the 50's of an anniversary of the great grandparents was digitally changed to a DVD by a family member and we watch it with great enjoyment!!

And one dear cousin's wife, knowing about my career, shared with me a couple of stories about loved ones who were nearing death and speaking to their sisters who had transitioned years before.  They were standing at the foot of the bed she said, ready to assist in the 'journey'.

Well, needless to say, I wouldn't have missed this!! It rates as one of the best weekends of my life!  I made a whole new connection to some pretty awesome souls!

It taught me to rethink how 'busy' I think I am.  I need to get my side of the family together!! Kind of like herding cats! I'll start with having lunch with my sisters!! And get my Dad and his sweet wife in the car and go see my Aunt Chris and Uncle Red!!

Sunday we headed home and topped the day off with our lovely daughter and her precious husband and our beloved grandson #1 for a late lunch on Mother's Day! And the sweetest text from grandson #2 came later that night wishing me a Happy Mother's Day! Priceless!

I've been told by more than one that we choose ahead of time who we will 'be family' with when we come to Earth.  Many would agree, many would disagree.  I certainly can't prove that one way or the other.

But with all the challenges, all the celebrations, I wouldn't trade my tribe for anyone else's tribe.   I'm so thankful for my roots with my birth family and so very proud to be Mrs. Becki Hawkins.  My husband and his sisters were a treat to watch this past weekend...all smiles!!

Parting shot, make time...plan a family reunion!

MEAN AS A SNAKE

"Mean as a snake", is how my dear husband responds when anyone asks him how I'm doing.  It has become sort of a term of endearment to me.

When I was working as a Hospice nurse, one day I visited a very special man.  He barely fit on his hospital bed.  He wasn't overweight but tall, a big ole boy, and as near a saint as they come.  He wanted his bed in the living room where he could see out that west picture window.  Picture windows were popular when I was a child.  They gave you a bigger view of your yard, the neighborhood or the farm, depending on where you lived.  Their home set up on a rise and pasture surrounded their house. He wanted to look outside.

His wife wasn't well herself.  She had a bad case of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, COPD, and a history of bilateral breast cancer, and the longest run of Shingles I'd ever seen or heard tell of.  She was as thin as a rail with watchdog eyes that seemed to never move away from my patient.  She'd perch herself up in a chair, throw off her oxygen tubing and holler at the caregiver to turn off the oxygen machine so she could smoke.  "Don't even try to talk me out of smoking!"She'd warn me each visit. I didn't! Good thing, if there was one, was that she'd do this in the garage with the door cracked open so she could hear better in case her husband beckoned her.

He'd smile at me and say softly, "She's still a good ole girl."

More than once I'd be sitting with him and he'd be off in his own world praying...for her, not himself, and his prayers were tender, endearing pleas of mercy for his wife.

I knew some of the story about her life. It sounded like a really rough childhood with an abusive, angry father, a dozen or more siblings and not much to eat, hard times for everyone 'those days', I was told.

One family member said it made her 'mean as a snake'.  Others told me, "Don't upset her. Don't rile her!" Believe me, I did not!! And she really was kind and courteous to me.

But I'd heard stories of her putting the fear of God in many people in the county.  One story was often told of how she nearly killed a man who tried to rob them back when they owned a bar in the 1940's.  She took a pool cue stick to him and then got out her shotgun.  No one ever tried that again.

I can remember as a very young child sitting on the foot rest of that long beautiful oak bar, wondering how anyone could stand to eat those pickled eggs, or sausages, and okra.  I liked smelling that oily red stuff she would throw on the floor of the bar to sweep up the dirt with a huge dust mop.  And I recall watching folks come in and sprinkle sawdust and something gritty onto the shuffle board table to play their hand at the game.  The big bright colorful jukebox sat on the north side of the bar and would spill out whining country western music and some Elvis too, I think.  The music seemed to float above me with the cloud of cigarette smoke.

My aunt had a Katherine Hepburn look.  She was slender, dressed in slacks and blouses or sweaters.  She always had on expensive, nice looking shoes.  But no one ever doubted who run the joint.  She was not a weak woman.  However, my uncle's presence gave some pretty powerful order to the mix as well. He didn't say much but he didn't need to.

All of these memories ran in and out of my mind while I visited.  Even though my aunt was still in charge as much as she possibly could be, she'd turned into one of the most devoted, caring wives I've ever witnessed.  As frail as she was, she would make her way to his bedside and in her cigarette, throaty voice, ask him, "You all right?" And he'd slowly turn toward her, smile, and say with the moment of strength he had called for, "Yes, Honey, I'm all right."

Then she'd sit back down and watch.

Sometimes, and I understand not always, life has a way of soothing rough places due to faithful, unconditional love over the years.  For someone as 'mean as a snake' she was the the sweetest, dearest presence to him...a memory that will be with me as always.

Remembering Her Mama

Early in my career of nursing I was working in an outpatient cancer ward where we saw patients primarily who needed chemotherapy, transfusions, lab work.

Sally was younger than most of our regular clientele in the waiting room.  She was wearing a really spunky, red flirty hat with her blonde curly wig.  Dark pink toe nail polish peeked out of her open toed sandals.  And her strappy cotton flowered sundress allowed room to work with her infusaport  for her chemotherapy and blood work.

"My don't you look nice!" I said as she entered our area.

"My kids picked out this stuff.  You know I'd rather be in my jeans and tennis shoes!" She said as she slid into one of our bright plastic waiting chairs.

She was almost through with her chemo treatments and was looking forward to having her port removed and a vacation.  "Where?"I asked one day while I was checking her vital signs.

"Anywhere there is a Holiday Inn with a pool for my kids!" She said with a huge grin.

She came into our tiny treatment room and started making her recliner comfortable with a soft cotton blanket and a little pillow with embroidered pink roses on the pillow case.  Then she headed to our mini frig and got a Pepsi, some saltines and looked my way. "You know, Becki, I read the other day in a reputable magazine that calories don't count when you are on chemo! So I might eat a candy bar too!"

"Oh really?" I replied.  "And what magazine did that appear in?"

"The one that Erma Bombeck wrote a column for." She answered with a smirk!

I smiled and continued gathering my supplies as she nestled in her space.

As I began the lengthy infusions of pre-meds and chemo, she suddenly became serious.

"Hey Becki, pull that curtain.  I want to chat a little."

"Sure Kiddo, I'm all yours for the rest of the day.  And I'm all ears.  Chat away!"

"Well, I know I'm really doing just fine.  It's just that I had a dream last night about my Mom.  I know I've told you about her before and that she died before I graduated from high school with breast cancer."

"Yes, I remember." I nodded in reply.

"Well, she was smiling and looked so young and beautiful like when I was about 5 or 6 years old and she was in her late 20's or 30's.  And she had on one of her favorite old cotton printed aprons she always wore. It had big pockets. She was smiling and looked so alive and real.  And she said, "Don't worry Pumpkin, It's what she called me because my hair was orange red.

"Well, then she said, It's not your time yet.  But when that time does come, I'll be here to help you make the journey.  You have more time, Honey, to be with your little ones.  You'll see them grown so don't worry anymore.

"What do you think about that?" she asked as she watched closely for my expression and answer.

"Oh, I think that's a wonderful dream!" I smiled and patted her arm.

"Well, I can't tell just anybody as they'd think I had a chemo brain disorder going on.  But ever since that dream I've been thinking about when Mom died.  You know when you're a teenager you're just all involved with school and activities and dating and well, I jut didn't think she'd not always be there.  I wish I'd hung around the house more and told her how great she was.  And I was thinking that when my time does come I'd want my kids to remember me like I remember her."

"Tell me what you remember." I asked her.

"There's so many things.  And it's not like I'm trying to make her into a saint or anything like that but she was close! She was always positive.  Dad would say, 'Oh, brother, weatherman said it'll rain today.  I don't know if we'll be out of the hayfield in time.'

And she'd be standing there by the kitchen table drying dishes with her tea towel and say, "Oh Herb, wouldn't a rain be nice in this heat? I swear those chickens are pantin' in the backyard.  Wouldn't they be happy with a rain?"

I'd be still eating on the last biscuit with honey listening and watchin' and waitin' for Daddy's reply.  He'd pull his old worn out sweat stained hat on and look at her like she was from outer space as he slammed the back screen door while heading to the barn muttering something to himself.

She was always doing something for others who might need some help.  She'd have us save all our clothes and shoes that didn't fit any of us anymore and we'd take them to this family that had less than we did.  She made us polish the shoes or wash the shoe laces and wash and iron the clothes and patch any tears in the fabric.

She was always giving away extra garden produce and eggs and milk.  I remember rolling my eyes thinking, 'Oh great! I'm going to be suffering extra in the heat picking that sticky okra and diggin' for potatoes for somebody we don't even know! She visited the sick in our community and always went to see about those who were grieving when they lost a family member.  She never went empty handed. She took a cake or a pie.  And I guess there were certainly times she must have had moments like any human does with doubt or fear or sadness, but if she did, I guess it didn't last long.

I was the most ornery one of us kids.  I was scared and angry when she was dying.  I didn't want to stay in the room with her.  But she made me feel like I was the most important person that ever breathed when I walked into a room.  But she did that for every one of us I imagine.  It wasn't till after she was gone that I realized how much she meant to me...to all of us.

We found little pieces of paper in her Bible where she'd made herself notes like: make Herb a banana cream pie, buy Princess more ribbon for her hair (my sister), tell Pumpkin how good her cookies were Sunday night, forgive Mrs. Johnson."

My sweet patient didn't say too much after that. She just smiled at me and thanked me for listening before she left.

I'm really more like Pumpkin that her Mom.  Often I want to  punch someone first and then forgive them.  But I'm not giving up on myself.  Over the years I've come to realize that God's grace still abounds.

How do you want to be remembered? I won't be remembered for my pies and cakes or sewing or contributions to a discussion about politics.  It'll probably be something else I'm remembered for!

Hug your children! Hug your parents! Hug your Grandparents! Hug somebody!

OUR NUMBER OF DAYS

One of my favorite verses in Scripture is "Teach us to number our days, Oh Lord, and apply our hearts unto wisdom." One dear little lady patient of mine many years ago made this verse even more special one day.

She was 65 years old and I was 30. I thought at that time she was elderly. Silly me!! I was in her hospital room to assess her post chemo vital signs, and overall assessment.  After looking her over from head to toe and satisfied that 'all was well', she said, "Let me get up and walk over to that east window.  I want to see out there where all those cars are whizzing by.  I have never been up this high in a building before I started coming up here to get these cancer treatments.  Lordy, look how far away it seems, almost like it is a pretend picture!"

I was trying to steady her ambling that way with her IV pole and her tiny blue patterned hospital gown  flapping in the breeze with her limping gait.  She wore one gown frontwards and one gown backwards for a make-shift robe.  She said it wasn't proper to let one's backside be seen in public.

"Ok, that's enough for now.  Let's walk me one trip around that nurse's station before I settle in for a little morning nap.  None of these other patients in here give a rat's patootie if the few hairs left on my head, due to all these treatments, are standing straight up on end." So off we went, slowly but with aim.

"Say Nurse, you believe in Jesus?" she asked while being careful in her hospital assigned non-slip house shoes.

"Yes, I do believe in Jesus.  I find myself talking to Him up here frequently." I answered wondering where this conversation was headed.  However, I was never bored with patient conversation.

"Well, that's neither here nor there, but I was thinking about that verse that talks about us being sharp enough to number our days.  The doctor said I'm going to be just fine after we get all these treatments and radiation done.  I don't know why he's so certain.  I think that's pretty much up to a mix of how positive I am, the medicine, and God's will.  We did, though, find this cancer early enough that we'll probably be able to knock 'er down and with a 'one-two punch'  of that radiation we'll snuff 'er out.  Still, it causes one to pause in these circumstances.  Let's sit on that orange visitor's bench by my door.

I know you are a busy girl up here, but I just got a few more words to spit out.  This has made me realize that at any moment you may be asked for what you least expect.  I was minding my own business on our little farm about 45 miles from here.  I'd get up at the crack of dawn and fix Leroy his biscuits and eggs and bacon and coffee.  Then I did the dishes and swept and mopped the kitchen floor.  Leroy is messy.  Then I head out to the garden before it gets hot and hoe a little and see what needs pickin' and glean what I can.
Then I start in on laundry and try to get those bed sheets and bath towels on the clothesline before checking the hen house for eggs.  And before you know it, it's time to fix lunch.  I make my own cornbread from scratch every day and we like having a little piece of meat fried up, some green beans or such.  Always enjoy our sliced beefsteak tomatoes too when they are ripe for picking.  Those you buy in the store taste like plastic.  I'll be glad to get my tastebuds back in order.  Everything right now tastes like cardboard!

Well, on it goes till dark.  Then before we head to bed we sit in the living room and watch that channel on our TV that our daughter got us that plays those ole time western shows.  And some times we watch those old shows from the days of Andy of Mayberry. What was I talking about? Oh! I remember.

You see, I just never counted on this.  All we've done is work and go to church and every now and then we might go see the kids in Oklahoma City.  But that's rare.  Leroy doesn't like that traffic.

By now I was day dreaming of my grand parents' farm when she got my attention. "Hey! Are you listening to me?  Well, what I was going to say is that I'm aiming to change my life a mite, good Lord willing."

"How's that? I mean, in what way?" I asked while we started making our way back to her room.

"I have spare garden bounty and I have extra canned goods too that I can share.  I'm pretty good with my Singer sewing machine even if I say so myself.  I can make some aprons or pot holders and tea towels and the like for that little mission our church sends stuff to, across the ocean.

And I'm going to work on being nicer to my nosey neighbor that gossips like it's her calling.  That will be harder than sewing!  We don't have a lot of spare money, but there's plenty we can do than just doing for ourselves.

OK, now close those blinds some.  I need to nap a spell before someone comes in here and wakes me up to give me a sleeping pill.  And why in the name of all that's good does that orderly come in here at 4 am and wake me up to weigh me?  That's a poor business decision in my opinion!"

She did do well.  And after her last treatment and last tests months later, she never had to come back to see us.  I hope she had many more good years on her farm.  Cancer is not a diagnosis anyone wants, but over the years I had so many patients and/or family members share with me what gifts cancer gave them as well, in spite of the diagnosis.

A VISIT

I received a post by a lady who wanted to share an experience with me.  I asked her if I could share with you as well.  I think each of these stories I receive from others has a gift woven within.

Here is her story:

"I was a CNA (certified nursing assistant) in a nursing home when I was younger and the first time someone passed away I, too, ran and cried. It was hard but I learned a lot about death and near death experiences.

My husband took his life when I was 28 years old.  I was young and scared with a son, 2 years old.  One week after he died he came to me.  It was not a dream.  He woke me up and told me he was sorry and that he'd always be watching out for us.  He even told me to look in our dictionary under the letter L and I would find some money he'd put there.  I asked him to stay and he said he couldn't.  He kissed me and walked out the front door.  Becki, I can tell you that I was at such peace when he left.  Even the lighting in the room was soft and beautiful  And this was at night and there were no lights on.

I told my sisters and friends but at the time they just thought I was dreaming and grieving.  What I couldn't get them to understand is that he brought me such peace and comfort that night.  Funny thing was my sister was with me the next morning when I got out the old dictionary.  I think she believed me after that.

It was a long time ago when that happened, but I know whose hand I'll reach for when I go home.  Even typing this brings that peaceful feeling back to me.  Hope you can read this as my cat is hanging over my arm. He sends his love too.

Love you and bless you, Jean"

Of course we know that not everyone is gifted with these visits, but those who tell us about their visions, or visits remind us that our loved ones do care about us even after they are in another realm.  All of these people who are sharing with me help me to remember how precious our relationships are every day.  I want to make sure I tell my husband I love him madly before he leaves for work each day.  I want to send text messages to my grandsons and phone calls to our daughter, touch base with my Dad and sisters, email or call friends...just to say "Hello! I am thankful for our journey together, I am blessed by your presence in my life, and in God's timing, the circle will be unbroken." It is all brief and fragile and precious! Embrace your gift of Life! You matter to so many on more than one level!

In Love and Light!
Becki

LIFE IS A CIRCLE

Occasionally I receive emails from someone who has visited my YouTube video: Transitions/Nurse Shares 30 Years of Spiritual Experiences filmed by David Sunfellow when I spoke in Sedona, or has read my book about some of my patients' experiences with pre-death visions or NDEs , near death experiences.

They remind me afresh of how truly connected we are, how brief it all is upon this Earth even if you live to be 110, how miraculous each love connection is for us as we live and as we die.

One email came from a dear lady who wanted to share with me about her experiences of  "the time I thought I was drowning" and "the experience I had with my Mom". She gave me permission to share this.

"The first was in college.  I went swimming and got caught in an undertow that went beneath a pile of giant boulders.  I tried desperately to not go under but did.  BOOM! Instant relax! Then a grayish-blue tunnel or circular and cloudy path.  First dark, then light.  But as I said I did not get to the end as I heard the voice that said "not yet".  I do not know how I was jettisoned out and do not recall how I climbed onto the river rock on the other side.  My boyfriend at that time had climbed over the top of the boulders and came to my side.  All I could do was sit there  Yet, it changes you.  I'm not afraid of death as I know there is more.  Life is a circle.

In my Mom's case, she was severely diabetic, fell, and started to go through kidney failure.  I, of course, kept hoping she'd get better...but I knew. She was on heavy pain killers and in and out of lucid thought.  I sang 'Home on the Range' hoping that she'd hear me.  Then five minutes later while I was talking with the nurse and my daughter, Mom started to sing, 'where the deer and the antelopes play'.  I knew that she knew I was there.  I left for a few hours realizing how little time was left.  Before I left she shouted, "Fertilize the flowers!" I thought about it.  At her parents, my Dad's and my step-father's services she had the song, In the Garden, sung.  I knew.

When I got back to her bedside I used my cell phone to pull up the words and I sang them once through, sang it again, and she died just as I finished.  Amazing...just went to sleep.  I now believe that whatever it was that went through me when she died was the last of her energy, or spirit.  It was pretty powerful.  I think she did it on purpose, as a gift, to help me deal with her loss and all of the issues I now would have to face and finish for her.

I will never forget how her faced opened up when she "saw" my Dad before she died.  Such a look of surprise!! Then she started "kissing" the air/him...awesome, in the definitive sense.  I told Mom it was time. She was born in Star, Texas and now, she is a star.

You can use my information I have here.  If it gives anyone hope, all the better.  Thank you!"

The movie, Heaven is for Real, is coming out soon.  I've heard so many stories, I won't miss it!

David Sunfellow has on his website NHNE-NDE a quote in his new newsletter.  It is by NDEr Reasearcher Kenneth Ring, from Lessons from the Light

"To dwell on the nature of the afterlife may divert us from paying attention to THIS life, where the lessons from the Light need to be practiced...The true promise of the NDE is not so much what it suggests about an afterlife--as inspiring and comforting as those glimpses are--but what it says about how to live NOW...to learn from NDErs about how to live, or how to live better, with greater self-awareness, self-compassion, and concern for others.  Live well, and death will take care of itself."

I agree. I love to hear the stories, but I hope to learn from them how to pay attention to this day, this life and to remember that we are told from those who share their 'life reviews' when they arrive, that every thought, every word, every deed matters more than we can imagine!

In Love and Light!
Becki

A Dog's Sense of Humor!

I was working in a Home Health/Hospice setting many years ago here in NE Oklahoma. Just let me say, never was I bored with my job as a Registered Nurse!!

It was one of those Spring mornings that I wasn't quite focusing well. Allergies? Lack of sleep? I arrived to the hospital to get my assignments and supplies while trying to locate my coffee cup and attempt to find my cheerful self. Where was she?

I half-heartedly went wandering into the supervisor's office to see where I was going. She was extremely brave taking on that position! She had to juggle clients, their families, nurses, doctors, aides, physical therapy, etc. We nodded to one another as I sought my desk to get paperwork and plan my drive and make phone calls.

I crawled in behind my steering wheel after loading my car with everything I thought I might need.  I was grateful for the 40 minute drive to see the first patient.  She was in her 60's and in renal failure and she was married to a darling 80 year old man who adored her and took care of her night and day.  Being with them was a good way to start my day.

As I headed their direction I began to notice the daffodils, the forsythia bushes and the pink and white dogwood and redbud trees. They were flirting with the light breeze and warming sunlight. The pastures were turning green and welcomed the little Holstein calves bouncing up and down as if they had springs in their hooves. Sunbeams were slicing through the trees on the rolling hillsides. Suddenly I realized, it was the pollen that was after me! And I truly thought to myself, "I don't care! Thank God winter is over!" I could take a Sudafed when I returned home! (the old days)

I pulled my car into the yard next to the white picket fence where my patient lived. I was all charmed by the drive to get there and was fiddling with the idea of singing Oklahoma. But the song left me promptly when I caught an eyeful of my left front tire slowly deflating! Oh no!! Not here! Not now!

But to be honest, is there anywhere or anytime we do want a flat tire?!!

When I got inside their cozy cottage I asked my patient if there was a tire repair shop in the area.  I thought maybe I could get it fixed while I took care of her needs and did her assessment, etc.

"Don't be silly Becki! Fred'll fix it!" She said.

"Fred", she hollered in his best ear's direction, "FRED, GO FIX BECKI'S FLAT TIRE."

"What? A flat? Who's got a flat? You, Becki? I'll fix it! I've fixed hundreds of them." He said while limping and shuffling off to the front door.

"Oh! No Sir! That's very nice but I can handle it." I said as I tried to dissuade him, fearing he'd hurt himself.

I could see visions of a newspaper headline. "Nurse kills patient's husband because of her flat tire causing him to drop dead of a massive heart attack!"

Well I was really awake now!

I pulled out the pretend spare tire, the miniature jack and that thing-a-ma-jig that pulls off your hubcaps and everything else important looking in the trunk.

First we cranked it one way, then another.  Finally, I retrieved the manual from the glove box.  Charlie thought this was great fun.  He jumped into the front seat as I put on the emergency brake. I began bargaining with God. "Oh Lord, I know the tire can be replaced, the upholstery can be cleaned, but please don't let Fred get hurt under my car."

I pointed to the pictures in the manual showing Fred where to put the jack, then turned to locate the spare again just in time to catch Charlie peeing all over it! Oh boy! Now my hands weren't only going to be black. They would be black and wet and smelly!

Suddenly I couldn't help but laugh and as the day progressed the more humorous the event seemed.  It didn't get real funny though till I got home with it all behind me.  More than likely it's the last time I'll underestimate the strength of an 80 year old man or a dog's sense of humor!

Often we think we know how to prepare for the day but the older I get the more I appreciate living in the Now moment, aiming to anticipate joy and surprise, shooing away any fearful thoughts, enjoying laughing at myself!

What did my patients teach me? Plenty! Life is not a check list! Enjoy your day dear friends! And pet a dog! Stay healthy and strong because you might need to help an old lady that looks just like me with a flat tire!


Take a look at my website
www.ladyhawkpublishing.com
My book is available there along with the e-book.
Transitions: A Nurse's Education about Life and Death

WAITING

I have the opportunity to sit in waiting rooms with friends or family from time to time.  Waiting for surgery, doctor appointments, lab work, etc.  Actually, waiting rooms are very interesting places to sit and people watch if you aren't bound up with tension awaiting worrisome test results.

One time I was sitting in a waiting room while a friend was having surgery.  I usually take a book but this particular visit I decided to just observe, be present.

One fellow seemed to have decided to just chew his wait out. He'd retrieved one of those red stir sticks from a 'cup of coffee' center and was walloring it all around his mouth, working his jaws out big time.  His cowboy boots still had some fresh Spring mud mixture on them.  He must have been out in the pasture before bringing his Mom for surgery.  I surmised the elderly gentleman cowboy next to him was his Dad. He sat perfectly still with his weathered hands in his lap. It wasn't hard to see that he was very deep in thought.

A couple of ladies wearing matching sweat suits: one red, one blue, were trying to knit and cross-stitch and embroidery during their lengthy stay. They only glanced up if they were disturbed by more waiting folk crowding into the tight space of metal/vinyl orange chairs or if the voice on the inner com spoke.  I think the one in red was knitting a 12 foot long purple (mixed with pink) scarf.  It went on and on.  The dear one in blue had put her own project in the quilted bag at her feet and helped her friend by holding the fuzzy yarn in her two outstretched hands.  They chatted in hushed tones about people needing prayer in their church.

A family looking unit huddled in a couch area.  Grandpa bounced a six month old on his knee.  Brother put on his earphones and held his Gameboy close.  He made faces twisting his mouth and chewing on his tongue as he was battling no telling what!  Grandma folded her pale chubby, short arms across her ample breasts and glared and frowned at the television overhead. There was one of those wild tell-all talk shows on and they had forgot to censor some of it!

Waiting is tough business.  We are an instant society, automatic, 'hurry-up and do it', nation.  Frozen dinner on TV trays with instant coffee and microwave popcorn are not that uncommon.  We don't want to wait in line at the grocery store or Wal-Mart, the post office, the bank or McDonald's.  We honk our horns if the person in front of us at a changed light is slow to move.  So, naturally we are impatient with hospital sitting as well.

We wait to get an appointment with our doctor, wait to see the doctor when we get there, wait to get the blood tests, or X-rays, to get our prescription filled and then to get our test results, perhaps a surgery date, then another doctor's appointment or paper work filled out before the referred surgeon will see us.  It is just the way it is.  None of the doctors or their employees want us to wait any more than we do.

Years ago one of my chemotherapy patients told me that he'd learned so much from waiting rooms.

"Ya know, Becki, waiting's good for us.  Rushing around is not.  You see, I have been in a hurry for many years, thinking my time was more important than anyone else's.   I was highly insulted if anyone ever made me wait.  Didn't they know how important I was?  Did they realize how high up the ladder I'd climbed in my company? Weren't they aware that I now had my own company?

But, it all ticks by the same.  If you are in charge of folding sheets in a nursing home or owning a nursing home, when it's all said and done, we are the same.  I'm not so all fired up and important anymore.  Look around you.  You think your time is more precious than the homeless man's time in that corner is?

I like that verse in the Bible where it says, "Teach us to number our days." There's wisdom in that.  Too many hurrying for tomorrow when tomorrow may never be ours.  Better enjoy the moments, better take some deep breaths and slow down a mite.  Who are we going to show love to this day?  Who are we going to thank today?

Neighbors don't sit out on the porch like they used to when I was a kid.  Guess these oncology waiting rooms have given me a new perspective.  Waiting has her purpose.  We shouldn't despise her."

In The Midst of it All

I feel honored when I'm invited to visit, or they respond to my request to visit, a friend or family member who has been diagnosed and living with a challenging disease.

I've known Vicki for years.  She has been involved in community service for several years here in our hometown of Pryor, Oklahoma.  She has the heart of a saint and a healthy sense of humor and courage beyond compare.

Vicki was diagnosed with ALS, Lou-Gehrig's Disease, a few years ago and now requires around the clock supervision to assist with many activities of daily living.  Introduction of star #2, her daughter Barbara.

Vicki was sitting in her fancy, fantastic wheelchair with her sweet puppy of 13? years, Rosie.  Once Rosie knew I meant no harm to Vicki, she allowed me to sit and visit.

Due to the progression of the disease, Vicki has a very limited use of her extremities.  She needs help if her nose itches, or she needs a drink of water, or eating, bathing, etc.  She and Barbara are educated on the disease prognosis and yet...in the midst of it all they are spending a good deal of the time with me laughing and telling stories.  It is very clear the bond between them is golden.

Barbara's saint of a husband insisted that she stay with her Mom several days a week, sharing the responsibility with her brother and sister-n-law.  And after listening to Barbara, it's a family of sainthood.

Vicki voices frustration with the 24-7 need she has stating she feels so guilty that Barbara has to spend so much time taking care of her.  Yes, Home Health/Hospice does help, and Vicki has nothing but praise for them, but that is limited care. They can't stay 24-7.

Barbara is quick to reply, "Mom, you would do it for me.  And in fact you did as a Mother raising me.  You took care of it all and I never heard you complain about it.  Now it's my turn to help you."

Ask anyone in these medical dilemmas where you are searching for assistance and you will hear the stories of frustration.  But Barbara did mention that not that many generations ago we all took care of our own.  Grandma and Grandpa Walton lived with John Boy's parents and his family.  It's not that common now.  Thank goodness for Home Health, Hospice, great nursing home facilities, or extended care facilities.  And I must say I've visited some of the finest with a most dedicated staff.  We just never know. It could be you or me anytime.

So what is helpful?  If you have a friend or relative who does need assistance and you just don't know what to do to help, ask them or ask the family.  Maybe they need: leaves raked and bagged, snow shoveled,  the car washed, a gift certificate to the grocery store, a Visa gift card for expenses that insurance doesn't help with, occasional flower delivery, laundry folded, etc.  Just try to think what you might need if the tables were turned.

I hope to visit Vicki and Barbara often.  They blessed me tremendously the other day with their stories, their laughter, a few tears, and some very honest conversation about Life!

They can always use your prayers too! Never underestimate the value of a prayer!

A SHARED DEATH EXPERIENCE

A dear woman sent me an email via my website this weekend. She wanted to share the things she saw and heard in the room where her husband died. Of course I was blessed to receive it. I asked her if I might share this with others and she agreed, "Surely you may use the story.  I believe all gifts from God should be shared. He gave me this for a reason.  Not just for me but everyone, so they may believe."

Dear Becki,

My first husband was a mechanic for the police and fire department. He was working on a stuck ladder and fell.  This caused a tumor in his lung.  Months went by and he coughed a lot, so I insisted he see a doctor.  We went to the hospital and had all the tests. I somehow knew it wasn't going to be something simple like a cold.  He was diagnosed with large cell carcinoma, lung cancer.  They could not operate because it had already moved into the chest cavity.  They put him through radiation treatments for a month to see if the tumor would shrink.  It did not.  He went to the hospital on March 11, 1985.  This was also the anniversary of his brother's death.  I felt so strange about that.  In April he was in the hospital again for about 14 days, and again in June for about 21 days.  This time he didn't come home.  He passed away just after our 18th anniversary on June 24th.

He was very worried that day and I told him I would stay with him all night and as long as he wanted me to.  They just couldn't keep the fluid drained out of his lungs.  The doctor told me earlier that evening that he was dying.   About 9:30 pm the nurse came in and put the oxygen mask on him because the tube under his nose wasn't giving him all that he needed. I tried to lay down on the chair, but he had to keep his hand on me.  I tried to hold his hand but it was so hard to do I just got up and sat on the bed.  He would look out the window and then back at me.  He looked so scared.  About 3 am I asked him if he was looking for the sun to come up and he nodded yes.  I told him not to worry that it would be up soon and he would feel so much better.  Besides I wan't going anywhere.  And I wasn't going to let anything happen to him.  This was the last thing I said to him.

I had prayed that God would help me do what I needed to do, and that he would give me something to hang onto so I would know if I did right.  After all I had a 14 and a 16 year old boys at home with my mother.

About 3:30 am I was still sitting on the bed looking at him and NEVER have I ever been in such peace.  There was a green veil between us.  It laid across my arms and my lap and went all the way to the ceiling.  I wondered what it could be.  It sparkled like diamonds bursting in the sun.  I thought, "This looks like something from Disney Land." But green? I saw him through the veil and heard what sounded like straining.  But it seemed OK, I though oh..he is trying to keep from coughing.  His eyes were closed and his head tilted on the pillow.

There seemed to be tremendous figures in the room at each side of the bed and the music...not audible to the ear but heard inside.  It was like I have never heard before and I have written music before and played music since the age of 5.  This music was so beautiful and so soft but bold all at the same time.  Then the veil started to lift from between us.  The peace I felt started to leave.  The higher the veil the more panic I felt.  By this time I could see him clearly without any obstruction.  I jumped from the bed and at the door I yelled for the nurse.  When I looked back at him his head was straight on the pillow and he was looking at the top of the wall.  BUT...I saw a golden glow encircling his head and chest as if there was a spot light on him.  I said to myself and the nurse when she came in, "Where is that light coming from?" If only I had turned around and looked where he was looking.  There was no light in the room before.  Standing at the foot of the bed my knees felt weak and I had to kneel.  The nurse helped me to the hall, but again I went to my knees.  Not feeling faint but knowing you might not be able to stand in the presence of God.  They took me to the nurses' station and asked the normal questions about respirators and life support.  I told them to do anything they must to make him comfortable.  They were not going to keep him any longer than God wanted him to stay.

The only thing I can figure is that God knew He had to do something to keep me still so I wouldn't screw it up trying to help.  So he put me in the state of peace and ecstasy while He did what He had to do.  After it was finished He let me loose so I could do something so that I could feel useful, and keep my word to my husband.


Please share this great story in your circles!! Many thanks!!

FACING DEATH, FINDING LIFE!

One of the joys I know from people watching the You-Tube video David Sunfellow filmed of me speaking in Sedona, Arizona, are the emails that bless me with amazing stories.

A couple of days ago a dear lady sent me her story. I asked her for permission to share it with you. She said if it would help anyone she would love for me to share. I think it will.

"My story began 8 years ago.  Everyone who knew me thought of me as a strong, focused healthy, 43 years old, a woman with everything to live for.  I was a successful coach, mentor and facilitator.  I was often described as inspirational and powerful'.

Yet the woman I lived with was sad and lonely.  She struggled to let people into her world.  She focused on living and being in other people's lives.  She never spoke of her needs and rarely asked for anything for herself.  Her mother had taught her to trust no one but herself.  She was afraid to be truly seen and loved because deep in her core, she believed she was unworthy and unlovable.

She could not see the true value she'd added to people's lives and could not find it in her heart to love herself.  In fact she hated her body and rarely looked in the mirror, let alone into her own eyes.

I was working long hours at my job and in the gym.  I needed to get everything right including my body.  I was my own self improvement project.  I completely ignored how exhausted I felt,  I took no notice of my body.  I simply worked it harder.

When I started to feel light headed, confused and breathless, I thought I was stressed and experiencing panic attacks and started to listen to meditation tapes to try to overcome these feelings.  I still did not accept there was anything wrong or dare to tell anyone that I was struggling.

It all came to a head when my legs gave way under me after climbing a short flight of stairs.  I could not ignore it any longer.  I went to my doctor and thankfully he didn't think it was stress.  He sent me straight to a cardiologist.

The cardiologist was amazing.  He ran all sorts of blood tests, etc. and finally diagnosed a rare blood disorder called hemolytic autoimmune anemia.  In other words I was killing my own red blood cells.

The irony was not lost on me.  Did I hate myself so much that I had enabled my own body to turn in on itself?  It would appear so.  Well, I wasn't going to continue being so stupid!!!

I adopted the same approach as I did with everything else in my life. I am in control of this and I will overcome.  Nothing is going to beat me, not even myself!!!

I started researching and exploring how to cure this condition.  I discovered however that there wasn't a cure as such!!  I spent months in and out of the hospital, becoming sicker and sicker.  My blood count hovered around 7 and I struggled to get up in the mornings and function.  Yet I never stopped work!!  How could I? If I did I would be a failure and be giving in to myself.

I was not prepared to accept the western medical approach, so I started exploring other disciplines and came across a fabulous Chinese Herbalist who gave me an alternative perspective.  He diagnosed an internal infection.  It took months of hard work and persuasion to convince the health care professionals to explore this option.

Eventually I paid for private care and they discovered what they called a fibroid in my womb.  They decided a hysterectomy was the only solution.  They were not however prepared to connect the gynecological problems with the blood disorder.  I didn't care.  I just wanted this all over!!

When I was finally admitted into the hospital I was in so much pain I could hardly breathe.  I was exhausted and as I lay in bed the night before the operation, I decided I just couldn't go on.  I didn't have the strength to fight any longer.  I just wanted it all to end.  I was so lonely, so frightened and so desperate.  I had run out of fuel.  My energy tank was finally empty.  I started to pray for all this to end.

As I lay there quietly crying (heaven forbid I should ask someone to help) the room began to fill with light, a gentle warm light and I knew that I wasn't alone.  I had this overwhelming sense of a very tall being standing at the end of my bed.  I started to feel calmer and calmer.  For the first time in my life I allowed myself to connect to real love.  I sank down into it and allowed it to flow around me and through me.

Just at that moment the door to my room opened and the night nurse came in.  She came up to me and took hold of my hand and asked me what I needed.  She was so lovely that I just wept and wept and she comforted me and held me.  When I calmed down I asked her how she knew I needed her and she said, "You rang your buzzer dear."

As she was leaving she commented on the beautiful smell of my rose body lotion.  I didn't know how to tell her I didn't ring for her and I didn't have any rose lotion.

Throughout the night the pain grew worse and worse and yet I became calmer and calmer.  I sank below the pain, deeper and deeper into peace.  Each breath I took helped me to sink deeper and deeper into the most calm tranquil place.  For the first time in my life I felt safe and accepted and loved.  During that night I learned that no matter what, we are always safe, always!!!

When they came to take me into surgery the next morning I could hardly feel the pain.  It felt like I was being held in the most loving arms.  The smell of roses was everywhere.

As I drifted off into the anesthesia I remember feeling a real sense of relief that it would all soon be over.

When I finally came around, I was surprised to be in my body and it felt strange to feel the physical sensations of my body.  I had the strangest feeling that I had been floating way out above myself, looking down on me and the surgeons.  I remembered the operation as a film I had witnessed from somewhere else.

My husband was sitting by my bed crying.  He was holding my hand and saying, "I really thought we had lost you." He said, "You have been out of it for hours.  I just kept praying you would keep fighting like you have always fought."

He told me it had been a tough operation.  They hadn't been able to do the hysterectomy because of the huge abscess which was just hours away from rupturing and killing me.

He said that at one point during the operation my blood pressure dropped down so low that I seemed to be fading away. He also told me I had sepsis and would need to be monitored closely until I was out of danger.

I didn't know how to tell him what had happened to me.  I knew I hadn't imagined anything but I knew everyone else would tell me it was the infection and that I had been dreaming.

I did however tell him that I never want to fight myself again.  I want to learn to accept myself and love myself.  I want to live.

Up until this point I had defined myself by my drive, my passion and my ability to be a real martyr.  I had never accepted myself as a beautiful child of the universe.  For me the near death changed my life completely.  By facing death I found life.

Throughout the next few days I felt calm, peaceful and held.  I felt that I was being loved and cared for by unseen hands and hearts.  When I finally had my hysterectomy 3 months later, I healed in double quick time
and the blood disease disappeared.  Not surprising really, I didn't need it anymore. As my body healed, so did my heart and my soul.  I came back from the whole experience a very different person.  I am now confident and filled with gratitude not only for my treatment and the healing I received, but also for my life and for my brilliant amazing body and mind.

The love I was given as the gift from this time has stayed with me and I now love myself completely and am able to love others in a more open and generous way.  I meditate and connect with that Universal Love everyday of my blessed life.

Today I run a business with a wonderful man and we help businesses and organizations heal.  At the core of our business is the sentiment that it is Better Together.

I only know that it is 'better together' because I died to myself and reconnected to the wonder of everything.

With Love and Thanks,
Christina