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.

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.

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."

A Visit

I love walking outside in comparison to indoors. So I walk for an hour everyday possible in our northeast Oklahoma town up and down the streets in a residential section and downtown on main street. I'm a waver, a tree-hugger, a nodder. Some drivers wave back and some stare at me like I'm from Mars. Some smile and honk their horns and some frown and make faces. God love us all!!

One day last week a gentleman stopped his car right on the street, put it in park and began to visit. He introduced himself and told me about how much his wife enjoys my articles. He said she wasn't in the best of health and one day told him she sure would love it if I'd visit her one day. How would you turn that invitation down!! He tore off a scrap of the adjacent brown paper bag in his front seat and wrote down her name and their address and phone number. He thanked me, put his car in drive and sped away.
I carried the little piece paper tightly in my hand.

I called him a few days later and made an appointment with them. Today was the day. What a cutie!! She has soft white hair, a little bit of difficulty walking, a very gentle voice and a warm smile. We settled into the rockers in their living room. I gave her my book and thought perhaps I'd stay a few minutes to chat and then hurry on to my list of Very Important Things to Do!

She thanked me for the book and then began to explain that she loves my patients' stories and how much they mean to her. She said, "I'm not afraid to die."

That's when I realized that this visit wasn't going to be a 'come and go' one. I settled in some more. Her husband excused himself to go see a friend. I think he knew what was coming.

She shared about her health, her childhood, her children, her talent of painting, showing me several really very nice pieces. She pointed to one nature setting.  "See the mushrooms in this one? My mother told me I wasn't through with this painting until I added the mushrooms."

"Your Mother?" I always pay attention to comments like this and respect them! So many have shared with me before of deceased relatives occasionally speaking to them.

She nodded.

"Your Mother speaks to you?"

"Yes, she does. We were very close." She affirmed and then went back to describing her work with the hidden mushrooms, a squirrel's nest, a hummingbird, an owl woven into the art with just a hint of where they were hiding. Each piece was serene and inviting.

"You see Becki, we all have talents given to us from God. Yours is in how you sit with people as they are dying and your writing. Mine is painting. We are suppose to use our talents.
I want you to know I pray for you and your success. I want you to know I appreciate your talents." She smiled while patting my hands.

I bent over and gathered her up close and hugged the whey out of her! "Thank you!"
We prayed together for her strength, humor, peace and all she needed for the rest of her days.

I drove home smiling at the Very Important Things to Do List idea. Sometimes Spirit/God/All That Is adds to our list a surprise.