VISITING THE OTHER SIDE

I have been absent from this blog since October! So sorry! I had surgery and then just simply got busy with Life.

But I received a message that I needed to get back to writing and sharing! So today I want to share this post from my YouTube video - Becki Hawkins/Nurse Shares 30 Years. I love reading the comments, especially the ones with stories they want to share. When I read this one, I connected with this gentleman and asked for his permission to share this with you. He agreed! So, enjoy! Warning: I am writing this word for word and he is not holding back with his true expressions.

"When I was 18, I was very suicidal.  I was drinking and drugging.  I would pull out in front of big trucks and let them just barely miss me.  I was reckless and desperate.  I would spend hours in bed staring at the ceiling.  I hated school. I hated being broke and I hated the idea of getting a job.  I had had many jobs already and was not at all looking forward to working for the next 40 or so years.  My mother was mean and my father was already going senile.  He was 53 when I was born.  One night I had a dream.  The dream was that I was a fortyish year old cop in a town of less than 1000 in a tree filled little hick town in the late 50's.  I was a cop for 20 years or so.  I became a cop because I didn't want to be drafted back when WW II had started.  I had a bit of a belly and rather enjoyed my easy cop life.  I was married to an introverted wife and we had a son and daughter both in high school.  I grew up in that town and had known my wife since I was a small child.

I had a lot of pride.  I had a strong sense of morality.  I wanted to treat everyone fairly and I prided myself in never having removed my pistol from the holster.  I felt that most of the people of the town respected me.  I had inner turmoil though.  The town butcher used to park his delivery truck illegally and I would over look it for I didn't want him to hate me.  I liked to eat meat and he gave my wife good deals and cuts.  I'm sure it was so I would let him slide with his parking.  It was not an agreement I had with him but I "got" it.  It drove me nuts but I didn't want to pay extra for bad cuts of meat either.

One day I got a radio call about this 17 year old kid that was causing trouble again.  I had run-ins before with him and went to his house to take him back to jail or wherever.  His house was out in the sticks a bit.  There were lot of tall trees on an acre or two of land and an old house where he lived with his alcoholic uncle or grandfather.  I had a rookie partner with me.  I had my rookie knock on the front door while I went around back.  As soon as I got to the back of the house the kid was standing there about 10 feet away with a double barreled 12 gauge and shot me in the belly with both barrels before I could pull my pistol out.

I fell down on my back immediately on the back porch and he ran off into the woods with the shot gun.  I laid there looking up at the tree tops and blue sky thinking I was probably going to die right there.  My partner came running around the back and stood over me.  He moaned and then started to throw up.  I'm thinking, "Call an ambulance you idiot!" Well he finally does but the can't stop being sick and I just lay there waiting for help.  I'm surprised it doesn't hurt more.  When the ambulance comes they come with more cops and even the chief.  The paramedics look at me and don't do anything for me.  People are just looking at each other and talking.  This is when I see a beautiful woman walk to me and stretch out her hand to me.  She says, "Take my hand if you want to come with me."(I'm crying as I type this now). I say, "Lady, I need a doctor." She said, "The doctors cannot help you. Take my hand if you want to come with me." What choice did I have?  Everyone else was ignoring me.  I looked back at her and said, "Shit, I'm dead ain't I?" She said, "Do I look dead to you?" I said, "No, you don't look dead at all." She said I could stay there or go with her.  "Sure, I'll go with you."

We started to float up in this 'gentle twister' with her eyes on me and my eyes all over her.  She seemed to be humored by my attraction to her.  It took a couple minutes to go up the 'twister' and I was still holding her hand when we landed on this cloudy plain.  I looked into the distance and started to see maybe a hundred people in the distance walking slowly toward me.  Slowly, I started to recognize them.  They came and hugged me or shook my hand.  I talked a little to all of them.  I recognized them all but not necessarily from my life on earth.  I recognized them from 'different' lives on Earth and some from never on Earth.  This went on for an hour or so and then that lady came to me and said, "The counsel would like to talk to you.  Would you like to meet them?" I'm thinking "Council? Oh shit! Judgment day!" But I also thought it was better to go now while people were still feeling sorry for me than go later after the 'killing' had been forgotten.  I was looking for some mercy.  So I went with her to this rather informal panel of elderly men, maybe five, and stood before them.  They said, "Don't be so alarmed, we just want to ask you a few questions." I said, "OK shoot!", so they wouldn't forget what just happened to me.  They asked me, "So, what is it like on Earth?" I wanted to say it was a sinful place but I thought it smarter to say, "Ah, it's pretty crazy down there.  There are a lot of really messed up people that need a lot of help." They were very surprised by my comment and very pleased.  The man in the center said, "Well, what happened to you down there?" I said, "Didn't you see what happened to me? That damn kid shot me to death!" And their smiles disappeared.  He said to me, "What do you mean by, he shot you to death?" I'm a little taken back and I said, "The kid took a 12 gauge and killed me and now I'm here!" A little disappointed, he asked me, "So, do you think you are dead?" Now, I knew something was up.  I was mad at this kid.  He had shot me point blank and ran away leaving me to die, and for what reason? I was not about to give up my anger and lose my deserving mercy from God.  I said, "Yes, he killed me.  I'm dead and that's why I'm here now." Shaking their heads they asked me another question.  "If you are dead how is it possible that you are talking to us? Do you think WE are dead too?" I retorted, "Well, I guess so.  Isn't this the place where dead people go?" They started to look at each other in dismay and I heard them say to each other, "Hey, look at me.  Do I look dead to you?" and "No, you look just fine. Ah, do I look dead to you?" and "No, you're looking o.k. to me too." and they chuckled a little.  I was getting pissed but they had one more question.  He asked me, "What do you think should happen to that kid?" I said, "He should be punished for killing a police officer." They said, "Well, it's been nice talking to you and we hope to talk to you again soon." I thought, "Cool, I'm out of here." And I went with the lady out of there.

She took me to another place and asked me if I wanted to speak with God.  Horrified by the thought of facing God, I said, "Maybe later, he must be very busy."

She asked me, "What do you want to do now?  Do you want to go back to Earth?" I said I was worried about my wife and kids.  She asked me if I would like to see how they were doing and I said, "Yes".  I took her hand and before I knew it I was at my own funeral.  It was outdoors in the little central park and there was a big closed coffin and I was wondering how all this could be happening already.  She told me that time was an illusion and that we could go anywhere in time.

I looked at the coffin again and saw my wife kneeling at the coffin balling her eyes out.  Immediately I was devastated.  She was so sad for me.  I could 'hear' her thoughts. She was truly sorry for me and not so much for herself or the kids.  I could hear her thinking how brave I was and how she always knew something like this might happen because I was too brave and proud to pull my pistol out.  I was shocked because I had always thought that she looked down on me and didn't have confidence in me.  Instead I find out she looked up to me because she saw I was a brave and true cop.  I started to scream at her that I was right here. "I'm alright, I'm right here! I'm fine! Don't worry!" But she could not hear me.  I looked at the lady (my guide) and said, "Why can't she hear me?" My guide said, "Because she is listening with her flesh and you are but speaking with your Spirit.  The flesh is weak and cannot hear the Spirit." I was devastated but my guide said she would be alright.  The state made sure the families of killed police officers were well taken care of...financial wise.  I heard my children thinking that they were happy I was killed because they could now go to college instead of being stuck in that small town.  I could hear the rookie cops thinking I was an old fool who should have been more careful. I thought those rookies looked up to me.  I guess I was a fool.  I heard the chief's thoughts too.  He never seemed to like me but he was actually impressed that I was a true blue cop. I was just as shocked by everyone else in the town.  Their thoughts were shocking.  I wondered how I could hear every one's thoughts.  My guide looked at me without talking.  She telepathically told me that the Spirit hears everything.

We left my funeral and went back to...who knows...outer space like.  She held my hand and we floated there for awhile.  I was shook up but not as shook up as I thought I would be.  I thought about how I told the council I was dead and how I tried to tell my wife I was o.k.  I thought a little about my unloving kids.  My guide asked me where I wanted to go next.  I said, "Well, I sure don't want to go back to Earth.  What else have you got?" She said that there were all kinds of places to go.  Not just Earth but back to the council, or to go see God or go see some other worlds, or we could even stay right there. I said, "Other worlds? There are more worlds?  I'd like to see some other worlds. What have you got?  She said she would take me to the next world that was one step from Earth towards Heaven to see how I liked it.  In an instant we were standing on a grassy area looking around at what looked like the Earth but with a lot fewer buildings.  The weather was 73 degrees and sunny.  I was told it did not vary very much.  There were trees and blue skies.  There was an outdoor concert nearby and hundreds were just hanging out on the grassy hillside listening to the bands.

I'm like, "So, this looks awful familiar.  Is this the same as Earth?" She said, "It's a lot like Earth but it is different too." I said, "Well, what's to do?  Do they have any arcades here?" (This is weird because if I was in 1958 or so, why would I be asking about arcades?) She walked me to an arcade place that was empty of people but full of arcade machines.  I walked up to a PAC Man looking machine and asked her for some money.  She said, "Oh, there's no money in this world.  Everything is free." I wondered how this place was staying in business or even why it was in business.  She told me the builders just really liked arcade machines.  So I'm looking at this screen and it is a guy walking down the sidewalk with a flower in his hand. She told me to hand the flower to a person walking the other way.  I hit the button and the person got a flower but now I had two flowers.  I handed another flower out and now I had three flowers.  I handed three flowers out and now I had six flowers.  I said, "I don't get it?" She said, "The concepts of winning and losing are not here in this world." I said, "Well then, how do you finish the game?" She said, "You are finished when you don't want to play anymore." It was a rather boring game and I ended up quickly with so many flowers I couldn't see my player anymore for all the flowers. I knew quickly why no one was at this retarded arcade.

We walked out of the arcade and I asked her about where I would live as in, what kind of house I could have. She said that I could have any house I wanted but that most people don't live in houses in this world.  Most just live in the parks.  I'm thinking, "Bums?" She showed me that I could build myself a mansion with not my hands but with my mind.  We talked about walls and doors and floors and as I thought about what I wanted they came to be.  Soon I had a rather nice home and I asked her why more people didn't want a house.  Didn't they like to have their own place and have some privacy?  That's when she put her hand through the wall.  She explained that I could have a house but that I couldn't really have any privacy.  She showed me how people could walk right into my house no matter how many walls and locks I put up.  I asked her, "Well, how do I keep people out of my house?" She said that all I could do was put up signs asking people to not come in.  I felt a wall and it seemed solid enough.  She said now imagine your hand going through the wall, and sure enough it went through the wall.  I said, "How come I don't fall through the floor?" She said, "Because you believe you won't."

So, I'm a little perturbed again.  "Well, isn't there a police force that arrest trespassers?" She said, "Well, we have something much like a police force but instead of punishing people when they act badly, we try to help them." I said, "Why not just throw them in jail?" She said, "Well, if you ask them to they might stay in jail but they can always just walk through the walls." "Great!" I said sarcastically.

"Well, how about a family?  Who will my parents be?  How do I get into this world?" She said sheepishly.  "Everyone is your family.  God is your Father and you are already here in this world.  You don't need to be born into it." I asked about death and she said, "There is no concept of death here either.  You just leave whenever you want to." "Well, what about money?" I asked.  She said, "There is no money.  Everyone is equal here.  There is no concept of individual possessions here." I said, "You mean to tell me that if I work my ass off, the guy watching TV all day without a job has the same standard of living as me?  She said, "Yup, everyone is equal."  I said, "Well, what about sex?  Do they have sex here?" and she said "There is something like sex here but it is not with bodies.  It is much more a mental engagement and we feel is far more intimate than sex on Earth." And that did it for me! "Get me out of here!" I said.  In an instant I was floating in black space with her again. I asked her if  they had another world that did have walls and she said that there were plans to make another world even more 'denser' than Earth but the actual building was not started yet.

I was furious.  I didn't like Earth and I didn't like the world of sexless, socialist, lawless, family less bums in the park world either.  She asked where I wanted to go now and in a childish fit I said, "I don't want to go anywhere! This sucks!" So she said she was going to leave me here to think things over and that she would be back if I needed her and poof, she was gone.

I'm floating in black space by myself and I look around and I don't even have a body anymore.  I feel safe for some odd reason but I'm furious and I'm bored.  I float for hours holding onto my anger.  Once in a long while some stranger stops by and asks me what I'm doing out here.  I say, "Earth sucks and so do the other worlds." I knew them from like 20 lifetimes ago on Earth and sure as shit, they were going back to Earth.  I think I floated out there for 3 weeks without a body while every once in a while communicating with passing strangers with just just telepathy.  I couldn't see them or hear them but still we knew each other's presence and thoughts.

Finally, my guide comes back and says, "We think we found a family for you on Earth.  Won't you at least come and look?" Well, I'm bored to tears, and so I agree to look but warn her she is wasting her time.  She says, "Just look. You have no obligations." I think its another chance to complain and I do miss her and so I go with her.  I know black space isn't going anywhere.  It'll still be there when I get back.  She whisks me away and I'm looking at this 'screen' with another person (the screen operator) and I see an earth and people and stuff.  My guide says, "This will be you.  This will be your sister and this will be your father.  This is where you will live, in California by the beach.  This is where you will be working.  You will make a lot of money and these are some of your many girlfriends you will be having lots of sex with.  One drawback is that this will be your mother.  She is rather difficult." I was very impressed with the bikini clad tanned bodies I was offered but I said, "What else have you got?" She said, "Oh, that's all. If you don't like that I will just take you back to where you've been hanging out.  I'm thinking she's got me.  Bikinis, money, Southern California Beaches or black space...I say, "OK, but I don't want to be killed again." She said, "Deal! We will send some angels with you." I'm thinking and I say, "Cool, I'll do it." And she asks me "What do you want to accomplish while you're there? I was thinking about nailing all those suntanned hotties but I said, "I want to do God's will." She said, "Excellent! It will be done!" And they sat me in this tub like thing and I went alone down this clear water slide tube and all of a sudden I'm in a dark and small room.  I realize I'm inside my new mother and its already time for delivery.  I try to make it quick and as painless for my new mom as possible.  I come out quickly.  The doctor and nurse are there.  Everything goes smooth.  I get some sleep.  The next day I'm eating bottles of delicious milk.  A beautiful nurse comes by and straps me to this chair.  I think this is weird and she starts cleaning my little penis.  I'm think, "The fun already starts!" She walks away and this man comes in and before I know it he's cut the little foreskin off me.  It hurts and already I don't trust beautiful women anymore.

I woke up from my dream and got out of bed and stared at my bed a few moments and wondered, "What the f**k did I just dream.  I went downstairs and told my mom that I think I might have remembered being born.  I described the quick delivery, the doctors and nurses appearance and the way the room looked.  The nurse had a big black beehive hairdo.  My mom said that it was all exactly like how I described it and wanted to know if my Dad put me up to this little gag.

I was weird for a week after that dream.  There were so many weird messages in it.  I think the most important message was that I didn't really want to die.  I wanted to be on Earth.  I got a job soon afterward at an aerospace company making good money for the next 21 years.  I took up surfing and met a lot of women.  I got ahead and I got head.  It was just what I came here for.

Oh and that little thing about doing God's Will.  Ya, I got to do that too.

I'm ready for the next world now.  I can't wait to just sit in the park and listen and play with the bands in the park.

I know there is a far greater intimacy with people than just sex.  I've experienced the messages I received in the dream.  That dream had a hundred if not more lessons in it I would learn later in life.  I've even had telepathic communications with other people and the Holy Spirit.  I know God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, my Guide and my Angels go everywhere with me.  I know everyone I meet is my family.  I know that after I die, I won't be dead.  I know that to give is to receive.  I know Karma.  I know that when people behave badly, that it is wise to help them instead of punish them."

I'm so grateful he decided to share this with us!

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."

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."