I'm through bein' cool

Something small and strange yet rather wonderful happened last night.

I have been a virtual reading machine as of late. Apparently, that’s what happens now that I’ve made a habit of sleeping sitting upright in chairs in strange hospital rooms. I equip myself with a book in my hands, headphones with music in my ears, and drift in and out of fitful moments of sleep. A quick review of the past two weeks tells me that I’ve spent more than 4 days reading the same paragraph in the same book. I’d tell you what book the paragraph is in, but … I uh … I don’t remember the title … or the subject matter, honestly. CLEARLY being a reading machine has NOTHING to do with retention or comprehension.

But no, the "strange and wonderful" had nothing to do with the reading.

I have three different personal music devices that provide me with a portable soundtrack. I bring all three with me pretty much everywhere I go, realizing that ONE will likely require recharging at some point, and then I’ll just move over to the other device.

I was sitting in “my” chair late last night (actually it was very early this morning), when a surgeon I’ve befriended peaked in to see if I needed anything. I’ve become very well-known in these hallways – I’m “Cookie Niece”, “Bread and Jammers”, “the FMD gal”, and – my personal favorite – “Brownie Babe”. This surgeon actually knows me by name and we walked down to the café for a 2:20am tea break. We talked about everything but his job and my reasons for being there (turns out that avoidance is rampant all over places like hospitals in the still of the night) … and then he asked what I was listening to.

“Oh – just uhhhh a bunch of 80’s stuff,” I said. What I was thinking was geez … this is Stanford freakin’ Hospital. I SHOULD be listening to Bach or some oratorio or something befitting the location. “Yeah – like what?” he asked. I felt myself blushing a bit … “ummmm … Oingo Boingo, Depeche Mode, Talking Heads. When ya’ ducked in to say howdy, Devo was playing ‘Through Being Cool’.”

“No foolin’!” he said and, ‘tho it was very early in the morning, he suddenly seemed far more awake. We talked about music for the next 15 maybe 20 minutes while he recovered from a surgery session that I learned had gone into double-overtime. In that time, he went from a brilliant surgeon who had just spent more than 3 hours working on the interior of a patient … to just some guy I could have been friends with in my high school days. We’d spent our free time on weekends at some of the same places and, while our paths hadn’t crossed, we had a LOT of the same memories of a LOT of the same spots.

When we finally stood up to return to our posts – his to sleep for a bit in the employee lounge, me in “my” chair – he said “You know … I’ve been watching your family for more than a week now. I’m pretty impressed at how all of you are handling this. I’ve seen families REALLY tear each other apart, at a time when they can least afford it. And – specific to you – I really respect the tough decisions you’ve made. I hope you have a really good support system because it seems to me you’re taking care of everyone else pretty well, and I think you deserve the same care.”

For whatever reason, hearing this guy say this to me - recognizing he didn’t really know me at all but saw a LOT of families dealing with what we were TRYING to deal with - I suddenly felt pretty damn cool.

“Time to clean some house. Be a man or a mouse. Waste those who make it tough to get around.”

And, just to add a bit of entertainment ...

Possibly not the version you're used to ... but I think Mr. Monahan's echoing voice suits this song quite well.

More when I'm properly motivated ...

Full of "Grace"

So here’s the thing … I really have nothing to say today. I’m not down or blue or sad … but I’m not feeling particularly inspired or clever, either. However, as is my habit when I’m at work, when I logged in today one of the pages I pull up happens to be this one … and there it is. Yesterday’s entry.

I’m very uncomfortable with leaving yesterday’s entry as the first thing folks see … and, as such, the first thing that I see. Now, each time I come here, it’s just sitting there, staring me in the face - the very thing I’ve tried to maintain a significant personal distance from. Even though I am surrounded by it at my every turn, and even though I have no desire to make this space about illness, or pain, or terror ... there it all is now bright and electronically glaring back at me. Of course, I realize that something will come to me soon, and I will again feel compelled to write. My March 31st entry eventually will be further pushed down this page and, ultimately, available only if selected from the list at the right. I would just like for that to happen sooner, rather than later. I’m selfish that way, I suppose, even though the entry itself was MY doing and important (to me anyway).

Ya’ see - it’s plenty disheartening that I find myself absorbing medical terminology and methods between the hours of 9pm and 6am four to five times a week as I sit in a hospital chair NOT sleeping, but there’s the added benefit of the tasks that ARE my job. Most people have their personal lives to offset their professional ones – but that’s been turned inside out for me. So I drive to work hoping for a distraction from my personal life and find that the proposals I face asking for donations are from all KINDS of worthy organizations and supportive charities including, of course, ones for every KIND of disease. (I don’t have to be specific on WHICH disease … and honestly, would it make any difference? How many GOOD diseases are there????)

Last year, I found myself repeating “this, too, is manageable” whenever I felt a wave of too much crashing over me. The details of my Biloxi experiences and the self-assigned guilt I felt for feeling as though I wasn’t doing all I could for my friends in Mississippi? The upheaval and betrayal that blindsided me in my personal life? Manageable. Even things that were POSITIVE – the new friendships formed, the warmth, passion, incredible support and amazing openness with which I was accepted into a new family, the details of switching from a job focused on what I could get vs. what I could give … all these things were met with my attitude of “this is manageable”. My father’s heart attack, though deeply jarring, was also manageable. Chaotic, for certain but … yes, manageable.

This year, thus far, I find myself repeating a two quotes. The first is widely attributed to Mother Teresa of Calcutta: I know that God will not give me anything I cannot handle. I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much.

And if I’m gonna have anything staring me in the face, any message bright and electronically glaring back at me, I think we can all agree it should at LEAST be a positive one. Don’t be confused - I ain’t no Mother Teresa by a LONG shot, and I am NOT making any comparisons between her life, behavior, compassion or dedication and mine at all - but if she allowed herself moments to make the request of “slow down, I’m not readyfor this yet”, then I can feel a little less guilty asking for the same kind of slack.

Oh yeah – the second quote that has been in my head these days is by a different amazing woman. The quote is “Never place a period where God has placed a comma”, attributed by none other than Gracie Allen. Talk about graceful women ...