My friend of 20 yrs is dying. We talked about it, we joked about it and together we faced the reality of it, but now its happening.
As the morning sky beams through my window, my mind wonders. I think, today could be her last day, and my mind wonders some more.
I feel as if I am standing on the shore watching a ship slowly sail away.
Expecting people to act the way you think they should will always be a disappointment; unless, of course, you are a director and those people are your actors.
A very frail woman surrounded by a loving team, gently lifted her into the hyperbaric oxygen chamber in the clinic yesterday.
I saw my husband, the day he passed away.
I saw the possible me, in the future.
I felt me, as a caregiver.
I felt me, as a health professional.
I felt the everything, about so many things.
I reached out to her, and made a friend.
My friend took her neighbor to a seminar full of seniors all facing dementia. The exercises were less than dignified. The prognosis glum. They haven’t really found much to slow it down.
My heart is full of compassion. I’m not here to question why who gets what. Life gives us all challenges.
I’m okay with mine.
– Anne Carlson –
The screech of resisting tire tread bounced across the asphalt. From the end of my driveway, I could see a car remained in the road a few feet away from the intersection.
No obvious mechanism of injury, no second car, no visible damage. Must not be any big deal. I returned to watering my sunflowers.
A few minutes later, sirens, flashing lights and the little white car was pulsing with activity. It wouldn’t have taken much for me to walk up the street with my phone and offer what I could. Its in my nature, I’m a retired paramedic.
It bothers me that I didn’t.
Soon to be 87, the corrosion of memories has left my Aunt Grace without a past. Her joy is in the pleasure of the next meal. I wait as the plastic chair in the nurses office scrapes across the linoleum floor and she gets comfortable.
The roll call begins of who’s left in the family dynasty with the predictable pauses of silence. She realizes she is one of 3 survivors in a large family of cancer deaths.
I think of her as the crazy Aunt Grace in a picture my mother took at the beach in her stylish sunhat and Foster Grant sunglasses, kissing the stature of Orville Wright. She was there when I was born. She reminds me there is inner strength to draw from. ‘You had a hard life, but were a strong child,” she says, “you always had a mind of your own.”
A thought comes to me, dawning into a smile. Not an outward smile, but an internal one, of the heart. She still remembers me, I realized. She knows how much she loves me, and tells me I made her day when I call.
“I like this place,” she said, “I think I’ll stay for a while.”
– Anne Carlson –
Don’t you just love it when life finds a way to survive?
Look what was in an old bucket of dirty water. Don’t you just love it when life finds a way to survive? Now how did that mommy frog get into a bucket with a lid on it? All these little guys would have eventually drowned except I happened to have set something down which broke a hole right through the lid, and there they were. Had the eggs been laid in the pond the goldfish would have gotten them, but now they are big enough to make in on their own.
With a little transportation help from me, they are on to a great life in the frog pond with plenty of delicious insects awaiting them in the periwinkle patch when they grow up.
I think even frogs have angels.