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?'