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.