I sit here blogging from 1275 York Ave. probably for the last time. Tomorrow is my last day working with Dr. Strong, and I'm not sure exactly how I feel.
Monday I begin a position at Human Resources, working in the Benefits Department for the hospital. I'm not really sure why exactly or specifically I decided to look elsewhere for another position at the hospital, but there are many factors. The stress and 'gravitas' of working with patients filled with anxiety, fear, and desperation takes a toll, and I am not of the right mind to continue dealing with it. I care too much. There is no thick skin on me, and I am blessed that I don't usually have to see the faces of the patients usually. But, Mr. M, Mr. G, Mrs. E, Mr. S - the patients that have touched my life the most, move me to tears. Especially Mr. S.
For the sake of privacy, I'll call him Mr. Smith. Mr. Smith was diagnosed with gastric cancer, and saw us in the beginning of this past year, like many patients. There was nothing entirely remarkable about him, and I worked just as hard on arranging his tests, appointments, and over the phone as I would with any patient. I do remember that he had no family whatsoever, no relatives, and his only contact was his parish priest. This is uncommon, but I have seen it before.
But then things really took a turn for the worse. Mr. Smith was found to have something in his bladder on scan, which was then biopsied and found to be bladder cancer. Now, this means that he did not have stomach cancer that just spread to the bladder, but instead, had a seperate, isolated site of additional cancer of another type. While this is not uncommon, it is relatively rare. I could not imagine the thought, if that were me. What do you do?
And then, Mr. Smith was found to have something in his colon. A biopsy was done of this as well. Colon Cancer. Again, this was not a spread of his bladder cancer or gastric cancer, this represented what is called a "third primary" cancer, another seperate site of disease. So this man had three different cancers, all churning and growing and dividing out of control. What would you do?
Well on one day, I needed to call Mr. Smith about his appointments. He had just been released from a hospital the following weekend, as all three of his known cancers started to really get at him. We wanted him to come in here, and possibly be admitted, so we could start to treat him better. So I called Mr. Smith, and the phone rang and rang. I was about to hang up when he finally answered.
I introduced myself, said hello, and he was very nice, as patients usually are. I said I was sorry for disturbing him, and asked if he had a few minutes to talk. He said I was not disturbing, and that is when he phone started to crackle with static. It became difficult to hear him, so he said he was "going inside" so I could hear him. I was shocked he was outside, a man that is so sick. He went on to tell me he hasn't had too much time these past few weeks to tend his garden, and today was such a beautiful day that he needed to be out there. He was very sorry for having made me wait on the phone. I asked him about his garden briefly, and he said he is cherishing every last minute out there, and how beautiful it all was. I gave him the information he needed, and he wished me a good day.
Mr. Smith died about a month later, and that day is never, ever, ever lost on me. Even now, a 24 year old man is sitting at work and bawling. His garden. Three cancers. Not a care in the world. Not a person around with him. And yet, I feel I have always been with Mr. Smith since then, that somehow he spoke to me on a soul-soul level, not just through a telephone. God blessed him with a beautiful day, and he really took advantage.
Mr. Smith lived more in that one day that I ever have. In his death, there is life, and how fitting. I am really not doing it justice, but I really hope this rings true for all who read this. A very holy man he was.
There are dozens of stories like these that I have, things I am taking with me as I go forward. I feel Dr. Strong and I function on the level of friends now, as much as it could be given that I assist her. I have made friends in the office, with Maria, Scott, Liza, Linda, and Harriet, and I am off on my own path again on Monday. I am sad now about it, but I know it is ultimately for the best.
This was my first job after school, the place that plucked me out of unemployed obscurity not a moment to soon, and made the rest of my life, the idea of living my dream, a reality. I am still under its umbrella, but it will certainly not be the same anymore. The Mr. Smith stories will no longer be going on, but there will also no longer be the intense stress and anxiety that comes with this job as well. I am blessed to have been here with these people, and it is time to move on.
I don't have it in me right now to talk about my music. I'm excited more than you know, but it would take up too much time here. More soon on all that.
Enjoy your gardens people, enjoy them as healthy, happy, people. With the bees, sunshine, dirt, and bird-chirps, we have all been blessed. Thank you, Mr. S, for showing me through your life in action.
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