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?'

AN EXPERIENCE BEFORE A MOTHER'S DEATH

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am so grateful for his email!!

HOW THE COW EATS THE CABBAGE OR ELSE!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How would you spend your last hours?


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

ALL THAT MATTERED

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 I was too busy working!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Brother's Keeper

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

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

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

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

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

And then as morning arrived he simply quit the fight.

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

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

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

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

Until we meet again!

OUR INDIVIDUAL RIGHTS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

WHICH RELIGION?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meeting was adjourned.

THE REWARD OF WALKING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IN SICKNESS AND IN HEALTH

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

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

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

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

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

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

And all was well, for a while.

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

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

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

"Will you come over now Becki?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone who made everyone feel special.

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

Silent Witness

I went to the Tulsa County Court House last week to be with a friend who needed to show up for a court date.  You get in line and wait for them to check your purse, remove coins, etc., scan your body for weapons and then sit down and wait for instructions according to your need for being there on where to go or where to wait for your attorney.  Well, I was able to observe so much in our 2 hour visit!

I've been on these courthouse visits before years ago with a loved one.  Mercy sakes!! The air at that courthouse was full of anger, judgment, fear, resentment, sadness, remorse, regret...!! I felt like I weighed 10 more pounds just from being in there.  It was difficult to sit there!

This visit was totally different! The officer who was admitting all of us in line was polite, courteous, helpful and just plain nice to EVERYONE who was showing up.  "Step this way please. Do you know where to go next? Do you have your paperwork with you? Right this way."

Never once in those 2 hours did I notice any condescending attitudes from any of those employees ushering all walks of life into this arena.

Three other employees were there to direct, to assist, to answer questions, to point and to guide people where they needed to be.  No one was yelled at because they were late or came on the wrong day.  They were simply pointed to the window they needed to go to for assistance.

There was an air of tasteful humor among those three. They were joking and laughing and teasing in those moments between helping others.  And at one point I asked the pleasant female, "You do have to keep a sense of humor in this work I imagine, don't you."

"Yes, we do! It helps the days go by." She answered with a lovely smile and winked at her friends while continuing her work.

I overheard attorneys talking to clients, the judge advising those standing before her, a translator helping those who needed help, parole officers and assistants being helpful, kind, considerate and even patient!

The 'air' in this house was much different that the one I'd visited years before. So, you know me! I sought out the 'head of the house', the supervisor, the top dog.  When I was kindly escorted into her office she pleasantly asked, "How may I help you?"

I told her what all I'd witnessed during my visit.  She sat quietly, smiled, and folded her hands to visibly show me that she was 'present' to my being there and sharing with her.

She replied, "This visit means so much to me.  Thank you.  It has been my hope to encourage everyone working in this space to treat ALL who come through these doors with respect, no matter what they are here for.  Even the homeless guy who shows up outside to search through the smoking can for a cigarette butt deserves to be treated with respect. Thank you for noticing and thank you for sharing this with me."

Often the only time one wants to see the supervisor of any place, it is for a complaint.  How good it is for us to try to see the positive in any building, office, restaurant, hospital, showroom floor,....we enter.

What kind of energy do we bring with us when we show up anywhere?  It's truly up to us what we arrive with! It is powerful beyond our imagination what happens when we arrive with: unconditional love, forgiveness, humor, kindness, respect, joy, gentleness,...without saying a word.  That Energy we bring with us is felt. Think about it. Were you ever at a dinner party and someone arrived and you knew before they were 15 feet into the home they were carrying anger or pain or resentment or negativity for whatever reason and all you want to do is move to the other side of the room.  On the other hand, someone arrives with a fresh air of joy, peace, confidence without ego attachment, a listening ear, a helpful hand and by golly everyone wants to sit next to that person, exchange stories...Think about it.

The next time you wait to get your teeth cleaned, or you are waiting on your food to be served,  to get your car tag renewed, get your stamps, pay for your groceries...consider what energy you are feeling, what energy you are bringing.

Those who are negative usually have a reason. Let's not judge.  Let's silently pray for them as we return to our space, our house, our car.  A silent witness can do so much, can't we?!! I know there are days I'm not always positive! But if you are standing behind me and I'm being a grouch, tell me to snap out of it!! :-)

Strength, Humor and Boldness!

I instinctively knew I was going to like her the minute we met!  She had a denim dress on, was sporting a nearly bald hairdo due to her disease and each hair she did have was standing up and out as if waving at you a bold "How do you do!" salutation, and she owned an aggressive handshake with blue black hands, again, due to disease.






There was nothing timid about her.  She was right up front telling me about her prognosis with the autoimmune disorder and its bad lab values revealing liver and kidney damage.  However, she never mentioned giving up the fight, quitting, or any form of surrender.






In fact, she was working out on a treadmill.  She sought out new treatment modalities frequently.  "Hey Becki, ever drink any of that new fangled health drink everyone is trying to cure anything from toenail fungus to cancer?" She asked with wide open eyes.  but she followed traditional medicine's prescribed plan with the hope of buying some more time.






Not that she believed in taking her medications like the doctor ordered.  Oh no!  She was always juggling the dose or stopping one of them just to see if it would make her feel better.  Silly me would try to warn her, "You better cut that out! You need to talk to your doctor first.  You're going to get yourself in a crisis!"






Then I'd try to explain the purpose of each medication, the side effects, the dangers of abruptly discontinuing one with a slow decrease, and only with the doctor's approval.  Then she would grin at me and agree with all I said just to humor me.






Sometimes we'd 'go out to lunch to a nice little local diner close to her home.  She'd have an outrageously beautiful blonde, shoulder length wig on, or maybe her dazzling auburn curly one that so complimented her pale milky smooth skin and gorgeous blue eyes.  I would find myself staring at her and thinking how very striking she was even then
.




Sitting there dining over beans and cornbread she'd start in on me, "Now, listen, you got to keep your intestines active. I've got a new natural fiber laxative pill that'll do the trick.  The bottle says to just take one or two, but I take four or five depending on my need.  Works like a charm every time!"




Then another friend who had joined us spoke up and warned, "Hey, you guys, better be careful with those all natural pills.  Look here at this photo in this book I'm reading.  Here is the statement with it of what happens if you go off the pills the doctor ordered!"






One look at that photo in the book and my dear friend's eyes bulged as she blurted out, "Hey man, don't be freaking me out with that #### in that crazy book!" I nearly choked laughing at her! The old hippy girl had risen! She wasn't going to read or speak of getting worse!




One day a few weeks later I called to check on her and she admitted with reservation, "Well Becki, it's not good.  The numbers are pretty bad now."






I didn't wait for an invitation.  I called another close friend of hers and we drove the hour to see her without much conversation between us.  Even with the seriousness of the situation, I couldn't help but smile when we walked up to the back door and chickens scattered.  We'd see n her before shoo them away, scolding, "Damn chickens! They're everywhere. Want some eggs? They multiply worse than rabbits."






I knew she was weak, but to see her unable to walk, unable to feed herself, and trying hard just to communicate pleasantries was hard.  We chatted for a while and prayed with her but then I knew we needed to let her rest. Her parents and her husband were grateful we made the visit.  "We'll be back soon.  You sleep, take your pain medication as the doctor ordered." I wanted to just be the friend but the nurse kept nudging me to speak up.  I wanted to pick her up and rock her, to tell her how really neato and cool I thought she was, (words she liked) and I hoped to hear her curse the poor chickens again.






But I told myself that I'd be back and we would talk some more, maybe I could get her to laugh again.  I was certain of more time.  I was out of town for 5 days and when I arrived home I called her but he person that answered said she had died the day before. 




I was so sure I would have more time to allow her to talk to me about dying and more time for me to tell her how much I appreciated her strength, her humor, her boldness, her laxative pills, her style, her never-say-die attitude.






And now, after nearly 17 years ago that she left us, all the people I've been with since then who were in Hospice taught me that she knows exactly how I felt, she knew my heart then and still does today.  We will laugh again.

AT THIS TABLE

Well here we are beginning another New Year. I love a new day, a new month, and especially a new year!! We all start thinking about what we do to: improve our health, make new goals, change our careers, etc. Many years ago a patient told me that we need to always bring Love to every table. I started thinking about this last week.

At the breakfast table, let us bring Love to each one sitting there, blessing the cook, giving grace for our food, noticing each soul sitting there!

At the conference room table, let us consider each one arriving for the meeting, praying for peace and Love and understanding, allowing compassion and sensibility to reign!

At the exam table in the doctor's office, let those of us in the medical field consider the possibility of fear and spend time consoling, educating, and listening with Love.

At the coffee table let us sit with family/friends/neighbors sharing a warm peppermint tea, and laughter or abundant Love as one might share a need, a prayer request, a broken heart.

Bringing Love, Compassion, and Gratitude to every table we offer one another a new Hope that in this New Year we can usher down the Love of Christ, or as some say Christ Consciousness, that embraces everyone who enters our sphere of daily living. We give in person or we send out in prayers the Energy that scientists now tell us truly works, makes a difference! Our thoughts, our words, our actions have this Energy that lasts forever, we are told!

Bless each of you as you receive Love and give Love in 2014 and all your New Years!!

THE PICKET FENCE

It was a lovely Christmas celebration on Christmas Eve with family.  We ate and we laughed and enjoyed just being together. Christmas Day we were invited to a dear friend's home for some of his sumptuous cooking with a delicious homemade veggie pot pie and potato casserole that had water chestnuts on top covered in a creamy sauce, just to mention a few of the dishes!

We had the pleasure of meeting one of the guests for the first time.  Oh my! She is beautiful, charming, and a wonderful story teller! She captured my attention right off the bat! After we had settled down at the feast of a meal in the dining room which was decorated with such style and detail, she told us a little about herself.

She said that all of the homes that she has owned in her adult life had picket fences. If she bought one and it didn't have one, she had one built. "Let me explain." She continued.

"As a child my sister and I would ride in the back seat of the family car for over eight hours every Christmas, and other visits as well, to go see our Grandmother. Our Father would get us up early and take us to get donuts, then get us situated in the car and head to Texas.

My Grandmother's farm had a long winding gravel road entry bordered by huge mature trees on either side. As Grandmother anticipated our arrival, she would listen for the noise of our car making its way to the house, hearing the popping and crunching of the gravel!

She would welcome us with big love, hugs and kisses. It was such a sweet time visiting her. Her home had a picket fence that had a small vegetable garden in it and a rose arbor. We would spend time in the summer helping her pick the veggies and often sit under one of the garden's large mimosa trees while we snapped beans.  There are so many loving memories that were created right there in that space, within the confines of the picket fence.

It took me years to figure out why each of the homes in my adult years with my picket fences didn't seem to measure up, didn't make me as happy as it did as a child.  But with time I began to realize that it really wasn't the picket fence that filled me with joy.  It was the unconditional love of my Grandmother and all the fun and happy memories that were stored in my young heart."

I sat there like I was hypnotized as she filled my head with images and wanting to have had the honor of knowing her Grandmother!!

These are the gifts that matter most all of our lives.  It's not about how much money we can spend on our children, how big and shiny our toys are as adults, but instead it's the time well spent together: playing games that make us laugh till our sides ache, pulling out the box of old photos stored under aunt Lucille's bed, having a family reunion and recording the elders' stories of long ago, to truly 'hear' one another, 'see' one another.

 It is my prayer for each of you as the New Year begins that you will make very special memories with your loved ones and dear friends that they will carry with them all their days and into eternity.  For truly, as I've said before, what we take with us when we 'transition 'is the Love that is woven into the DNA of our souls, the love we gave to another and the love we received.

Blessings! Happy New Year!
Becki

WELL DONE

I was visiting Hospice patients all over Tulsa County that winter.  I hated getting out on sometimes slick roads and freezing temperatures.  But the precious homes and dear patients and families and inviting warmth from the fireplaces or fake gas logs helped encourage me to keep driving!

The majority of my patients always had someone, or many, welcome me inside and were eager to fetch me a cup of coffee or hot chocolate.  It was especially good to see a hospice patient surrounded by those who were hopeful of making a difference at the 'tail end' of their loved one's journey.

Sometimes as the end grew near, the moments would seem to grow especially long.  And on this one particular visit it was as if time stood still and was weighing upon my heart as I gathered with those surrounding her in her final hours.

She was resting comfortably considering the scene before us.  And as some of my patients have occasionally shared with me, "I feel like I'm between here and there", she wasn't responding but we all believed she could still hear us.  One sister spoke with this conviction upon her lips, "Sis, I know you can hear me even now. I feel your spirit is just waiting for your tired little body to stop trying to keep you here.  Please forgive my tears.  I know you are going to your heavenly home and I wouldn't try to keep you here with my selfishness, but I'm just human and I'm heartbroken you are leaving me.  But listen here, Sis, all of us are surrounding you wishing you 'travel mercies' for the sweetest arrival Heaven's gates have even known. 'Course now you know we are prejudice, but there you have it." She continued speaking softly in her sister's ear while stroking her now smooth brow with glistening beads of sweat.

Her sister-n-law had arrived the day before and had been at the bedside without words but with gentle application of lip moisturizer ointment, her sister's favorite perfumed lotion carefully rubbed on her frail skin and bony knees, elbows, heels and shoulders, and also tidying up the bedside table, bringing candy-cane colored carnations in a sweet porcelain vase to cheer the room.

Her already grieving children took turns standing near to hold her soft hands that were beginning to turn blue, carefully comb her still beautiful silky white hair, making attempts to sing her favorite hymns, and in these moments now coaxing her, giving her their permission too, to 'cross over' to join their Dad. "Mother, we will be OK.  Go on now.  We know Daddy is waiting nearby to escort you.  He promised he would."

But I think the hardest part for me was helping this beloved patient's Mother who was still able to walk with her walker to draw near as close as she could to her daughter's side.  I openly, quietly wept as I held her up as she tried to bend over and kiss her daughter's pale cheeks, "Sweetheart, Mother is here.  This is Mother dear.  Don't be afraid.  You are going to see so many loved ones.  I am so ready to go with you but God is keeping me here a mite longer.  You tell everyone I'll come too before long." As I helped her to the love seat nearby I thought my heart was going to burst.

Then within just moments before she did pass, her oldest sister approached, pulled up the little wooden stool as close as she could get to the bed and with a deep breath began urging her little sister tenderly, against all common sense to most, against her true heart's desire, someone she had told us that she loved beyond words...to go. "Sister, your sweet little heart is weary beyond human comprehension.  You can lay your precious body down now and rise up and take flight.  We will all miss you but we truly will be OK.  We know you have always wanted to take care of all of us, but we promise you, we will take care of ourselves.  We will take extra good care of Mother..."

And with those last words, their loved one did take one more deep breath before finally letting go.

A granddaughter requested they all join hands and pray.  This young but very mature woman beautifully called upon their God for all they needed in those moments and in the days, weeks, and months ahead. She then opened her Grandmother's worn Bible and read the underlined (with red ink) 1 Peter 1: 3-9

Every winter season when this time of year rolls around, I think of them and say to myself, "Well done family. Well done."

Golden Footprints

Last week we lost two dear friends in a plane crash. They were such an amazing couple, always doing for others!!! I was honored to speak at their Celebration of Life ceremony along with three others. Here is what I had to say.

Scripture tells us that one day one of the teachers of the law came and heard Jesus visiting with some of the Sadducees and then asked Jesus, "Of all the commandments which is the most important?"

"The most important one", answered Jesus, "is this: 'Hear O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.  Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.  The second is this: Love your neighbor as yourself.  There is no commandment greater than these."

Today's language -- Love God, Love One Another!

And you see, loving one another is just the natural flow of our love of God.  This is how we 'flesh out' our declared love.

Ivan and Adina did this.  They indeed loved God and family and friends and employees and community.  Their examples for all of us remind us that we do well to care for others, care for one another.

One day a few years ago I was visiting someone in the nursing home.  While walking to her room, I glanced up and saw Ivan coming down the hallway.  I said, "Hi Ivan! What are you doing here?" He was visiting a dear lady whom he had known as a child.  He had heard her health was failing.

I knew this woman and stopped by after my other visit.  She smiled and said, "Did you see Ivan? He was here and prayed with me." She was so pleased.

Ivan was a very busy business man! Yet, he made the effort, took the time to bless others. And he did this without fanfare, without desire of recognition, without wanting a pat on the back.  It just was who he was.

Adina was just as benevolent.  Quietly, she did for others without requiring attention for doing it. Both of them were involved with serving causes that helped those in need.

Many years ago I was giving chemo to a cowboy patient of mine, one of my favorites. He got quiet and then asked me if I'd thought about what kind of footprints I wanted to leave on Earth. He said he had been thinking about this since he had been diagnosed with cancer and then again when he and his wife attended a funeral service for a neighbor. He said that man was always doing something for somebody else: giving them milk from his dairy, giving them fresh tomatoes from his garden, stopping to help anyone who had a flat tire...the list goes on. He said there were so many wanting to get up in that service and tell what this man had done for them. He said he started thinking about who might stand up for him.

He went on to tell me about how he would go to church and sit on the back pew and only give a couple of dollars and then 'high tail it out of there' before the preacher reached the back pew after the sermon was over. And that he imagined that his neighbor to the west of his farm only heard him cussing his cows and that he wasn't too good about telling his wife or his children that he loved them or appreciated them. He said he would hide when his mother-n-law came over for a visit.

He said, "Becki, I think I'm going to drive over to my neighbor's house and thank him for chopping the ice on my pond last winter when I didn't have the strength to swing an axe. He just got out there in those freezing temperatures and did that for me without saying a word. I hope I'd done the same for him. And I'm going to start having supper with my kids and my wife at the table instead of eating on my Roy Rogers TV tray in front of the television. They are good kids and I need to tell them so and that goes for the wife as well. But to be honest with ya about warming up to my Mother-n-law real soon. That'll take some time. And I'm going to go to that church house and sit up closer to the front and give that preacher more money and let him shake my hand."

I pulled him up close after I finished giving the chemo and told him that I thought he had just left Golden Footprints in that outpatient oncology unit that day. All the other patients and their families were blotting their eyes. Samuel just got up, put his sweat stained cowboy hat on, nodded at each family and headed to the elevator.

In my eyes, Ivan and Adina also left Golden Footprints here: in our little hometown of Pryor, Oklahoma, across the continents to a mission they supported, and in all our hearts. They especially left the best of examples to their four sons. I can already see they will continue leaving exemplary footprints as well.

We, dear ones, are beautiful souls who are here for a very brief time even if we live to be 110.  We are here learning how to love one another more, continue growing ever nearer to God.

 I couldn't help but wonder what they would say from their new vantage point.

Perhaps:

Love one another unconditionally!

Cling to nothing in this material world.  For the only thing we take with us is the love woven into our soul's DNA, if you will, of how we have treated one another. 

Never doubt that you are here with great purpose.  No one is accidentally born.

Forgive others, forgive yourself.  It's healing.

Get to know God!! You will never regret that.

WE ARE ONE

This Thursday, October 24th, is Global Oneness Day and United Nations Day. I love this!! Why?

Patients have taught me over and over that as we are dying, we are the same.  Whether I am climbing marble steps to a mansion or concrete blocks to a mobile home, the needs when I arrive are essentially the same.

These are some of the questions they ask:

Can you keep me comfortable: physically, emotionally, spiritually? Even if I'm still fighting pain in my heart, my soul, my mind?

Does God really love even me? Even if I'm not perfect? Even if I'm a society outcast? Even if I'm still trying to forgive someone? Even if I haven't been in a church or synagogue in years?

Will I be alone when I die or will there be others from the other side come? Even if I'm not sure? Even if I.....?


You see, it doesn't matter how much money we have or how big our house is or how many degrees we've earned, or how poor we are or if we are homeless or if we haven't been educated.  We are all connected.  WE are all One Human Family.

We are on such a tiny planet when you consider the heavens and the vastness of all that is 'out there'. One very young man asked me one day, "Do you think there are aliens? And if you do, do you think they wonder at our violence to one another?"

We must wrap our hearts and brains around the notion of caring for all: each and every person, Mother Earth: her animals, the plant kingdom, the soil, the air, the waters, the rocks! We are the keepers, the guardians..yes, each one of us!

What will it take for us to lay our weapons down? I don't know for sure but I think it will include a massive scale of Love. I just know that as we die it doesn't matter if we are Democrat or Republican, Baptist or Jew, American or Aborigines, vegan or meat-eater...

We all have a heart, we all bleed, we all need Love. We all need to give Love.

Thursday pull out the kids' globe or get out the giant National Geographic World Map and then close your eyes and point to a spot.  Open your eyes and then pray for that nation, study her people, etc.  And teach the children to do the same.

God Loves Everyone!
He's got the whole world in His hands, He's got the whole wide world in His Hands...He's got you and me and brother in His hands, He's got the whole world in His hands.  That what we sang in our little country church when I was a youngster. I still believe that!!