Rosie

Holidays are always difficult at the hospital.  Regardless if it's Christmas, Thanksgiving, or Flag Day.  Big or small, these days bring with them reflection, and many memories.  Most patients will do anything in their power to get day, or weekend passes from their doctors.  No one enjoys spending holidays stuck at a medical facility while friends and family are celebrating.  I have mixed emotions when it comes to these days.  Living so far from loved ones, and my husband working at the golf course on the majority of holidays, I frequent the hospital to celebrate with my fellow patients.  Of course, I would rather be partying with healthy individuals, but being there for all those too sick to venture outside of the hospital is very important to me.  Holidays revolve around togetherness, and stepping away from the strain of daily tasks.  We all deserve these breaks, so we can recharge our batteries and relieve building stress.

I tend to spend the most time with the elderly crowd during the holidays.  It tears me apart to see how many elderly patients are alone while receiving their healthcare.  Children and younger adults have a revolving group of visitors at all times, but the older men and women rarely see new faces.  It breaks my heart to see the loneliness they live in, and the sadness in their eyes.  They try to act as though they are happy, but it's easy to see the pain take over them, and to see their hearts sink with each passing visitor.  I know that I am a familiar face in the crowd.  I am not the visitor they are waiting for, but I try my best to help these men and women escape their struggles for a while.  A simple conversation, and a friendly smile can go a long way.

Yesterday being the 4th of July, many people took advantage of the nice weather, and spent the day outdoors.  Cookouts, picnics, pool parties and firework displays could be seen, smelled, and heard for miles.  There are many cancer patients that cannot go outside due to their illness.  While so many were celebrating America outside, I chose to stay indoors reliving memories of past Independence Days.  I had a spectacular time with a few patients who were spending the day at the cancer center with me.  It was natural to ask the small group of men and women at the treatment center about 4th of July celebrations they have attended over the years.  The stories were fascinating.  They spoke of their youth all the way up to present day.  Some of their narrations were simple and others were extremely elaborate.  It was wonderful to see the pain on their faces turn to joy.

One story stuck out to me.  A woman named Rosalyn shared a truly heartwarming story.  She recounted every detail pertaining to 4th of July festivities from her childhood.  She was glowing as she spoke about her family, and the traditions they shared.  The part of her memory that really stuck out to me was when she spoke of her mother's blueberry pie.  They didn't have much money growing up, but her parents would do anything possible to provide homemade blueberry pie and strawberry ice cream for the kids at their annual 4th of July picnic.  As she ended her story, Rosie said this would be the first year she wouldn't have blueberry pie and ice cream on Independence Day.  I could see the sadness come back to her face.  I was determined to end the day on a high note.  I could not let Rosie crawl back into her loneliness.  

After my treatment sessions, and before heading home, I wanted to find a blueberry pie to bring back to Rosalyn.  I knew that the hospital would have strawberry ice cream.  They keep a stockpile at the nurses station.  Neither the cafeteria, or the cafe had blueberry pie, so I had to look elsewhere.  I cannot drive after treatment, so I knew I had to sweet-talk my medi-van driver into making a couple pit-stops on the way home.  Luckily, my driver was one of my regulars.  We have formed a friendship, and he was willing to help me.  I'm not much of a pie person myself, but Walt knew of a surefire place to find the desired dessert.  He even struck a deal with me.  He said he would pay for the pie if he could keep half for himself.  It was a fantastic deal for me.  I wasn't going to eat the pie, so both he and Rosie could benefit from his offer.  We procured the bakery item, and headed back to the hospital.  Walt headed for the cafeteria to get some milk to go with his pie, as I took course towards Rosie's room.  A pit stop at the nurses station to pick up the ice cream was all the stood between Rosie and her 4th of July tradition. She wasn't in her room when I walked through the door.  I began to worry a bit because I was unsure where she might be.  Luckily, she was only a few steps away in the common area playing cards.  I walked right up to Rosie and her friend(also a patient of the hospital)Lily.  I told her that her story very much impacted me, and I wanted to bring her a little piece of her past.  I opened the pastry box to reveal the blueberry pie.  I took the pie out and cut a slice for her and Lily.  Before she could ask about the strawberry ice cream I placed a healthy scoop on her plate.  Tears welled up in her eyes as she thanked me profusely.  Both Rosie and Lily stood up to hug me, and to thank me again.  The tears of joy, and elation in their eyes was all the thanks I needed.  I sat and enjoyed some ice cream with the ladies before I returned home for the evening.  I was pleased to be walking out with a smile on my face and warmth in my heart.

I walked into treatment today, as I would any other day.  Little did I know what was in store for me.  My first stop is always the nurses station.  I check-in with the ladies and obtain my schedule for the day.  Today played out differently.  I was greeted by one of the nurses before reaching the station.  She told me that Rosie wanted to see me as soon as I got to the hospital.  The request was unusual, but not unheard of.  I walked directly to her room.  My mood was immediately altered as I passed through the door.  This Rosie was not the bubbly Rosie I spent time with the day before.  She was weak, and pale.  Her breathing was labored, and she was hooked up to multiple machines.  I could feel the color leave my face when I saw her.  I took a deep breath in order to hold back the tears.  She reached out her hand toward me.  I took it and sat next to her.  She looked deep into my eyes and whispered "thank you".  I asked her what she was thanking me for.  I told her she thanked me more than enough for the pie.  She went on to explain that me bringing that pie to her meant so much more to her than just tasty treat.  Since her diagnosis, Rosie only allowed herself to think about getting better.  She transformed into a completely different version of herself.  She let her cancer dictate her life.  She was unhappy because she didn't see a future for herself, and she didn't allow herself to reminisce about the past.  Those memories were to painful to relive.  The reflections themselves were not painful, but they took her to a place she knew she would never see again.  She pushed them all aside.  After telling me all of this, she explained that my act of kindness yesterday allowed her to unlock those lost memories.  A smile appeared on her face as she explained the happiness she was filled with by once again embracing her past instead of ignoring it.  Rosie held my hand tighter as she thanked me another time for freeing her from her own stubbornness.  What happened next was surreal.  The woman who had been struggling to get the words out between breathing difficulties, and tears the entire time I was sitting with her spoke with total conviction and assertiveness.  She told me her time was up.  She had lived a wonderful life full of beautiful memories, and her life had completed its circle because of the freedom I gave her.  The last thing Rosie told me was that I needed to hold on.  I had many more memories to make, and to share.  She made me promise.  I promised her I would hold on, and keep fighting.  I wholeheartedly made this promise to a truly lovely woman.  As soon as those words escaped my lips Rosie took her last breath.  Her hand went limp inside of mine.  Rosie was gone.  I placed her hand softly on the bed, and prayed for her to be taken care of in the afterlife.  I slowly made my way into the hallway and collapsed in tears.  I realized in that moment that life is a sacred gift.  We only get one chance to make it something we can be proud of.