To The Patient In Room 2603
Sunday, August 29, 2010 at 9:20AM I know your room.
I lived there for five weeks. Although you’ve shoved the bed over against the window in a brilliant move making you much more one with the outside and your goal.
I know your pain.
Yes, this phrase has become comical in its overuse but in your case, Madame Butterfly, you know I know.
I am glad we met. You call me your mentor even though I’m your daughter’s age. I guess we mentors can be younger but you also give me strength. It may sound convoluted but since you are probably smarter than me and learned English at a later age, I’ll attempt an explanation. By allowing me to feel all-knowing about this stinky disease and by letting me in to help, you are helping me. For the entire summer I’ve relied on others for help. Now by your simple act of wanting to know more from me, I am able to give a little back. God it feels good. Thank you M.
So here’s a little more “help.” I was sitting on our insanely comfortable couch while the rest of my family sleeps this Sunday morning and I was thinking about you, sending healing thoughts across Troy and up Dequindre your way. I realized you are in the thick of it right now. You are in that place where the drugs in the bag hanging next to you are really hammering your mind and body. This is “Go Time” M. This is when you rely on everything you’ve ever known to pull you through.
Remember your own comfy spot at home. Remember your garden and your green thumb, never mind that autumn will be in the air soon. Remember your husband and your daughter, both hovering by your bedside knowing and not knowing what to do. Remember why you signed up to join this planet in the first place. Remember health.
Mostly, remember health. Because it’s looking for you and continually asks me about you. It wants so badly to visit and your nurses and doctor most certainly are trying to issue it a day pass. I saw it in the ward knocking on other people’s doors but it was pounding on yours! Ms. M, you don’t know how badly health feels for you.
But truly, the most important note I can pass on is that very soon you will succumb to health. Even my five weeks in your room — with that insane cooling vent and the bed that adjusts even when, damn it, you don’t want it to adjust — seems to have faded a little from my memory. Only just a little, but a little nevertheless.
And that’s the thing. Our cancer is the kind that allows that. Our doctor has never had a failure with this type of blood disease. Life’s not over; there’s still much more to come. Your eyes tell me you know this and want this. Now let your body realize it. Yes, the medicine that’s destroying the cancer is also bringing other sicknesses with it. You can’t imagine what was lurking in my intestines a few months ago. But I’ve seen the way you handle those invaders and I’m impressed.
In some very real ways M, you are my mentor. And I am all the better for it.
Reader Comments (4)
wow i read this sitting out under a tree on a beautiful 80 degree day without a care in the world, and it brought a tear to my eye. i can only pretend to understand half of what you are really saying in this, but that half and the half that still seems black and white is so moving. i love it.
Oh Rodney, you are strangely missed--strangely because you are right where we all prayed, planned, hoped and helped you to be, but in this continuing parade of sojourners to wellness, you stood out. Maybe it was your pure honesty, your eagerness to fully feel and know every crook and crevice of the path. Maybe it was your quirky sense of humor and the way you caused us all to look at life from new perspectives. Maybe it was the fact there seemed no distance between us--your whole family is like that, offering a sincere and sacred intimacy from "Hello." But I think of you when I pass that room and when I round the corner and miss the fast paced photo-blogger nascar-ing around our little lap course. You are deeply imbedded in hearts and hopes here. We want you well, resuming--no enhancing the routine of life. The first Sunday in June is our Cancer Survivors Celebration. A table at the front is reserved for Team Rodney! Blessings, dear friend.
Also, I printed your blog entry off and took it to the Divine Mrs. M in your old room!
Oh Rodney, you always know how to bring a tear to my eye. Even that last day with us when you bolted out of your bed to go see M. I was so happy to be a part of that and to hear the two of you talk. It was inspiring to me and in some small way it makes me understand the reason why we go through difficulties in this life. To be able to walk along side another and truly KNOW what they are going through. As always you have touched my heart more then you will ever know. I look forward to your next blog and will be in your corner rooting for you every step of the way!!!