In practicing living consciously and freely, I have observed how my thoughts on who I want to be do in fact frame both the high times and low times.
In a very recent low time, two deep desires and intentions have permeated my being:
I want more time to live fully with those I love.
I am grateful for all the experiences I have had that have prepared me for this moment.
My dad is 69, until a few weeks ago was still performing a formidable weekly surgery schedule, enjoying wine on his porch while watching for hummingbirds, and regularly golfing. As he grew sicker the past month, his stubbornness made him put off getting in touch with his oncologist and he instead took antibiotics and ignored his pain.
I talked to him on a Monday and heard his fatigue. I thought to myself – I need to figure out how to get home soon. That Saturday, I heard from my stepmom he was in the hospital due to unbearable pain that was impacting his ability to function. I had that feeling in the pit of my stomach that this could be it. I planned out my week to make it there on Tuesday. On Monday morning at work, I could barely function. I needed to get home. I was straight with my boss who graciously told me to leave and get home.
This job is where I have worked as a PRN occupational therapist over the past 5 years – sometimes one weekend a month, sometimes 5 days a week. I am grateful for my colleagues, my patients, my clinical skills, the ability to earn an income, and the opportunity to observe organizational behavior. It is not my dream job, but the perks have always been enough to keep me happy and showing up. I have always known it would help me build towards my dream job. It turns out, it gave me more than that.
I was grateful to them for the understanding in prioritizing family – my colleagues took the rest of my caseload without a blink. I drove those 6 hours as safely as I could…and must say I have never sobbed like I did on that drive home. Depth I had not known before was added to my desire to live. I realized not only do I want to live fully and honestly and freely, I wanted more time with those I love.
The purity of this desire cracked my heart open in a way that I did not expect. I reflected on time my with my dad. I had no regrets – my dad and I have cultivated a beautiful relationship over the last decade, that has mirrored his own softening into greater ratios of kindness and playfulness in his everyday interactions. I admire him. I have told him this. He has told me how proud he is of me. There are no words I wish I would have said or times I wish I we would have had. But still on that drive, the desire for more time became a prayer in my heart nourished by my tears.
Finally, I made it to the hospital and walked in to see him. I still had that precious moment to be with him. He brightened when he saw me. I also felt right at home seeing him. It didn’t hit me until later when talking to my sister who has not worked in hospitals. She had arrived a day after I left, so had been relying on updates from the family. He was starting to improve to everyone’s happiness and her relief. But when she entered his room, she was overwhelmed by the lines. This did not phase me – the foley catheter, multiple IVs, heart monitor, constant beeping, blood pressure cuff, hospital gown and socks, room setup. It was so completely familiar I did not even register it.
My gratitude for my occupational therapy job hit me on a very deep level. I am so grateful to that job for me giving me comfort and competence to be with my dad in his most vulnerable medical moments. So grateful that I thought – if this was the only future gain from that time working at the hospital, it would be enough. I would do it again.
It reminded me that experiences prepare us for life in ways we don’t expect. I have been practicing gratitude for this job for a long time but focused on more rational aspects of it. I do believe the gratitude practice opened the door to fully embrace my joy at having worked at a hospital the last 5 years. And moving forward, my renewed perspective of treating patients with extreme care and compassion.
My dad was extremely sick. All tests for infection were coming back negative – and all pointing to the reality that we knew – his leukemia from 2006 had transformed into a bone marrow cancer. We just had to wait until Wednesday for bone biopsy results to start treatment. But in the meantime, Saturday-Wednesday, the cancer was eating my dad’s sacrum and vertebrae. He was in so much pain that oxycodone would barely dull it. He moaned and barely slept. But at the same time he was consolable – accepting back and foot rubs with graciousness, “that feels so good.” I have never seen a patient endure pain like this – with so much strength and independence, so much kindness to others, and no hint of bitterness. On Tuesday, he said in a moment of slight lucidity, “we’ve gotta start that chemo.” “Dad we just need to wait on results of the bone biopsy.” “Oh ya, the bone biopsy.” He had thought 3 days had passed in 3 hours.
It was a painful time. My stepmom who is a plastic surgeon competently demanded the best, quickest care. I am beyond grateful for her fierce strength and tenderness towards him.
In vulnerable moments of waiting, being with him, I got to experience the nourishment of family time, the beauty of a married couple still in love, the knowing that my dad is the strong, kind, dignified man I know him to be. On Thursday, my dad was alert again, post steroids and ready to start chemo. He said, “well I thought I was going to die. But now that I made it through, I think I’m going to live.”
I get to have more time with him. I am so grateful.
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