It's not like how they show it on TV. The span of an entire illness comes to a conclusion in a very comfortable 45 min. Programs even have commercial breaks in between all the drama to allow yourself the opportunity to further comfort yourself with a trip to the bathroom or a quest for that bag of peanut M&Ms in the cabinet. Within minutes of air time, the tests that had previously been performed are ready; the hot nurse returns to the wise doctor's office and hands him the file as he looks for his glasses in the pocket of his oversized white coat. A quick, witty exchange and then it's back to work. The rooms are always nicely lit with the Hollywood touch and everything is pristine and new. The floors are shined, the nurses are sweet and compassionate and the doctors somehow all look like GQ models. Hollywood, right?
The real world though is not Hollywood. The halls of a hospital smell like rubber gloves, 409, and the overwhelming smell of sub-par chicken broth. The waiting is gruesome and agonizing. The nurses mission is to get in and get out. There's no encouraging side comments, where the patient suddenly has an epiphany with the nurse about "What it all really means." Some are curt and unresponsive. Others are Chatty Cathy's with the inability to take a pause, let alone a pulse. And then there are those who are polite and kind and know exactly what to do. Now I can say whatever I want about their performance, but at the end of the day they are there to do a job, not to make friends. I can respect that. At the end of the day it's not their friendship that I'll leave with. If they do their job, then I get the auspicious privilege to take the person that I'm visiting--home.
You'd like her if you knew her. She is the most remarkable person I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. Her laugh is infectious and her love is unconditional. Her talents: rearranging furniture, designing excellent "goodie trays", and wreath beautification. Her weaknesses: a good Dan Fogelberg song, feeding people until they had to scale back a notch in their belt, and having pictures hand framed and hung on the wall (just right). She's my mom and has given me absolutely everything that I could ever need and then some. Now it's my turn.
My mom is strong. She is the kind of person that would turn down help, but follow with "Do you need anything?" or "How are you doing today?" Life has thrown me a curve ball though. When they told me she had cancer my entire world stopped. The word kept playing over and over in my head, and I couldn't grasp it's meaning. Did I break down? I'll answer that with the quick retort, "Is the sky blue?" I inherited her strength though and from here on out you're looking at a 6'4 "Iron Man". I have found that in times of true upset though, you see the most pure, beautiful side of people. It's a raw compassion molded into cards and thoughtful prayers. All of them stacking on top of the other, building up a mountain of positivity that I dare you to try and conquer. My family and friends are incredible and we are such an unstoppable force. There is a magic about this family that is unbreakable. We don't know how to give up and we certainly won't start now.
My Wanderers, life can change so very quickly. I have "preached" in these past blog posts about seizing the day and it couldn't be any truer. Take the time and appreciate everything that you have and especially the people that are so important to you. Be strong. Take the storm and turn it into sunshine. Light up the world with your positivity. The human spirit is truly amazing and is capable of so much. This is life. It's messy, complicated and often times not what you expect. But with positive thinking, group support, and a whole lotta love, anything is possible. "The path may be long and treacherous, but I am here to hold your hand and guide you to the finish line." I'm ready, so take my hand and let us begin.
