Of Fear, Faith, Family & Friends

Four days after Christmas, I found myself standing in line at Sibley Memorial Hospital's Breast Surgery Center, waiting to check in for my lumpectomy.  It's really a situation I'd never figured I'd be in.  Yet here I was, with a certain undercurrent of nausea from stress - and no coffee.  I'd been so resilient and positive about it all.  From the unexpected 8pm call just before Thanksgiving, confirming breast cancer, through insurance issues and pre-surgery meetings.  I'd been so cool, so on task.  I even said, more than once, "I'm seeing this as like a broken leg - you need to have it fixed.  You need rehab and crutches for a time.  But in the end, you'll mend, and life goes on."  

Caption:  Nothing quite like hospital fashions.  I think I could have used this 'gown' as a sheet for my bed.

So why was I standing here at 5:30 in the morning, so agitated that I found myself drumming my fingers on the stanchion in front of me.  When I realized what I was doing, I tried - hard - to stop.  I could just imagine how horrible it must look, like I was an entitled, impatient person, in a cancer surgery ward, no less.  In truth, I was just afraid. 

I found it very difficult to push back the anxiety.  But then I looked up and paid attention to what was happening in front of me.  A woman, by herself (Chip and Katherine were both with me), was checking in, clearly for the same procedure I was having.  She appeared to be about 15 years older, and she, too, was shaking.  Her stress was more visible than mine, and thus didn't masquerade as impatience.  Hers was consuming fear.  She was being given the litany of instructions for after the procedure - where to have your people meet you, etc.  But she was alone.  Her friend had dropped her off at the hospital's front door, and was going to return when she called her.  The receptionist asked for her friend's full name.  The woman had to search for a piece of paper to find her friend's last name.  She was clearly overwhelmed by it all.

How incredibly sad.   That the person who is going to take you to and from such a traumatic experience, who will stay with you for at least 8 hours at home til you are fully coherent post-surgery, is someone who's last name is unknown to you.  All three of us heard this, and we were silent.  My shaking had stopped.  

Caption:  Chip liked the little yellow hospital socks they gave me.  They made me think of a little duck, so that made me smile, too. 

And then we were called up, I had my surgery, and we went home.   Me groggy.  Chip and Katherine very kind.   But I kept thinking about that woman.  Who was with her?  How did she get to her follow-up appointment a week later?  I hope she's recovering well.

And I hope she knows what she did for me.  After observing her and her situation, my nausea and shakiness slipped away.  You see, perspective is an amazing thing.  I was anxious and afraid.  But I had the support of my family, a host of friends from all over the country, prayers and love.  I know the last names of every one of them.  Friendship, faith, and family are the most important things we have in this life.  If you encounter someone lacking in any one of these, engage them.  Keep an eye out for them.  Their anxiety and fear are more real.  And maybe you can fill in one of those key elements for them.

I didn't start this out to be so philosophical, but there you go.  Life throws these things in our way, and it's up to us to react.   If you know anyone going through a health crisis, especially someone who seems to be alone in this world, reach out to them.  Offer a meal, to take them to an appointment, a cup of tea.   You may find that doing so will lift some of your own anxiety and fear. 

Looking for a little inspiration?  I've found some great insights and help from Father Mike Schmitz' podcast on Spotify.  Where ever you find perspective, clarity, and peace, you've found some truth.

Oh, and my surgery went very well.  Looks like with a bit of radiation next month, I'll be in great shape.  So thank you to all of you who have supported me, prayed for me, sent me flowers, meals, cozy gifts, and love.  It does mean the world to me.

God bless you all,

Virginia