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?'
Friday, October 17, 2014
Thursday, October 9, 2014
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.
"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.
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