Synopsis:  George Bailey has spent his entire life giving up his big dreams for the good of his town, Bedford Falls. But, on Christmas Eve, he is broken and suicidal over the misplacing of $8000 and the machinations of the evil millionaire Mr. Potter. His guardian angel, Clarence, falls to Earth, literally, and shows him how his town, family, and friends would have turned out if he had never been born.

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We are in our final week of shows for this production. I find myself growing more grateful and thankful every performance. Greenville Little Theatre stands as a testament of what good people can accomplish when you combine passion, art and love for others: a reminder that we are all more alike than not.

This afternoon I was asked what impacted me during Saturday evenings performance last week. Since I’ve mentioned that I learn something every night, it is a fair question. Here is what hit me, encouraged me and has caused me to look more closely at people I see along my day: how George handled the loss of hearing in his ear.

George lost his hearing from complications to an illness he acquired while saving the life of his little brother. It hit me that the majority of the times we hear George mention his “bum ear” is when he’s receiving good news and he is in a bit of disbelief. He never mentions it when he receives bad or discouraging news.

That’s what hit me. I certainly don’t relish bad news but it has certainly been the main type I’ve received since diagnosis. So it became easier to handle. That sounds odd, I’m sure. But my new normal was just that – varying shades of not-so-great news. The few times I’ve heard exciting news became a bit difficult to comprehend. My mind had adapted to the bad.

I’ve looked back at my experience to try and understand this change. There are moments that stick out and I’ll share two. Early on in the experimental treatments every piece of good news was followed up with a big “but.” 😂 (A good play on words is healthy for a long-lasting sense of humor.) Then there was the first Oncoligist I encountered after we moved to another state – she read my medical records and informed me that should I relapse she would not start treatment again. Her words ring loud and clear in my mind, “your quality of life is not something I can condone. I will make you comfortable but that is it.” 🥺😳😢 My Rock said a few choice words and then whisked me right out of there. Every night when I hear Mr. Potter tell George Bailey that he’s worth more dead than alive, I hear that oncologist. Thankfully every time I hear Clariece tell George that no one is worth more dead than alive I hear the voices of my Core Four.

George Bailey gave so much to so many. His physical pain/loss did not stop him. His dreams changed and evolved without him being totally aware. He lamented the changes until he hit rock bottom and truly saw what mattered most in his life. People. Helping others. As his family, friends and townspeople come in to save the day George has no trouble hearing them. He had accepted that his life truly was wonderful even though it was different than he ever planned.

Each night I am reminded to listen to the voices of those I love, especially when it counteracts the voices in my mind, to have faith and to be thankful. Dreams do come true if not always the way we imagined.

It’s Saturday, our two show day, and we’ve just finished our first performance. The audience laughed, gasped, cried and cheered for our brilliant actors. Well, except for Mr. Potter who received a collective Boo! during curtain call. 🤗

Every time I see this production it moves me. George Bailey had so much to live for but he lost sight of it all. He had big dreams. He could see them, had them planned since he was a boy. They were great dreams. Important. They would help others as well as himself. Nothing selfish in those dreams. He had God-given talents and desires.

George Bailey also had a close and supportive family, good friends, and respect of each one. At a young age George learned the importance of hard work and integrity.

His life was practically perfect and would be perfect as soon as he escaped the shabby little office of the Building and Loan in Bedford Falls.

Then life happened.

This so mirrors my life before diagnosis. Well, except for the wanting to escape my town. I love Michigan!

I see in George Bailey so much of what I went through in the days leading up to my diagnosis. When life started to get bumpy I slapped on genuine determination and enthusiastically embraced what I had to do to beat this wretched disease. When I see George Bailey fight for his friends I’m reminded of fighting for My Core Four. The day I was laying on a surgery table watching my oncologist and surgeon argue about getting my port placed… surgeon emphatically insisting that attempting surgery was certain death while my oncologist emphatically insisting to NOT place the port was certain death. No experimental chemo = 0% survival. But, like George, you do battle for the ones you love.

Before diagnosis, starting when I was a girl, I had dreams. Dreams and God-given talents. Those dreams started when my parents took me to see A Christmas Carol at the Pabst Theatre in Milwaukee. We went every year to see this play and every year the production always had small differences and I would pay rapt attention to find them. Sometimes a ghost would be introduced differently, or the costumes would have changed, or gender roles swapped … I loved every moment in that theatre. I dreamed of directing or being part of the production team that helped pull of that theatre magic.

And, while I wasn’t in a community theatre my dreams had come true by teaching high school theatre and putting on productions. It was magical for me. The year I was in arsenic treatments we did Mousetrap and it was so much fun! I loved those students. They practiced late at night after baseball games. They were a blessing.

Life redirected me several times. My dreams never died but they evolved, like George Bailey. I learned that we can get through anything as long as we stick together… that no man is worth more dead than alive, so fight for the life you have… that when things look dark to stop and look at all of the wonderful people in your life.

Faith. Faith in God and faith in my family and true friends. That’s the way to have a wonderful life.

And so my friends, this is one small reason why I love theatre. It echoes so much for so many people. It delivers thought-provoking messages, laughter, tears, and when done well, hope.

Thanks for the wings, Clariece!

Script Synopsis: “The Angel of Death visits a mental hospital to collect someone on his list, he accidentally reveals himself to the wrong person. After struggling to convince the patients of his identity, Death attempts to correct his potentially fatal mistake and demands to know which one of them is actually the one he came for. But the patients refuse to give up their friend’s true identity, even after Death insists that if he doesn’t perform the touch of death within the allotted time, the consequences could be disastrous. Death must resort to drastic measures and even joins the group sessions in order to win this deadly battle of wits.” – Cheating Death by Kamron Klitgaard

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Trying to cheat death did have its fun moments. The 7th floor was a community. We laughed, cried, celebrated and made plans together. We were family. There may have been one angel of death lurking about, but I had an army of angels surrounding me with faith, light and laughter. I have found that every day is a good day, or as Winnie the Pooh would say, every day is my favorite day. Learning to be present is a tremendous thing! Letting go of past hurts and disappointments and also letting go of worries for the future. Today is what counts.

My children learned that coming to the 7th floor wasn’t quite so scary once there was a routine. My nurses took the time to show my children around and even go on their own adventures. They gave them the code to the special nurses kitchen that housed the treats. Victoria and Matthew could go in there any time and get a Popsicle for themselves or for me. They loved doing this!

Victoria would go on a big adventure every time she visited. One of my nurses would ask Victoria to accompany her to the blood bank to pick up the blood I needed that day. This was a big job and one Victoria looked forward to doing.

The nurses gave my children the gift of service. I see the fruits of that to this day.

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My neighbor on the 7th floor was Chris. He was also in protective isolation. We were neighbors for 6 weeks. He was in the first room right off of the elevator and I was in the second. We only saw each other a couple of times but we communicated several times a week. The nurses had given him a putting green for his room and if I heard him up practicing 🏌️ I would knock on the wall and we would talk through there. We laughed and cried. Sometimes we were just there with no words.

Chris gave me the gift of empathy and compassion regardless of circumstances.

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Chris and I shared the same birthday week. Our nurses surprised us with a party. They filled the waiting room with family, cake and gifts. After they said “surprise” we looked around and saw that everyone had their sterile gab on. We were able to be in a different room without a mask! It was the first time I had been out of my room with no mask on. It was beyond wonderful. We all laughed, ate cake and spent 30 minutes of true joy together.

The nurses gave me the gift of celebration.

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My Rock started an online blog to keep our family and friends updated. He would sit beside me and write. We would laugh over how to phrase things because I had developed a rather warped sense of humor. Ok, I already had that but it got warpier. 😂 I mean, how does one say that their nickname with the Infectious Disease Department is “Bread-maker” because yeast was running amuck throughout my body. We found it hysterical.

Dennis gave me the gift of laughter at a time when I needed it most.

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I love music. Music has always played a significant part in my life: piano, flute, piccolo and voice. Music speaks to me. But I lost a lot of that in the hospital. Enter my Priest, aka my brother. He drove 3 hours every Wednesday to watch American Idol with me. We laughed. We cheered on our favorites. We escaped life.

Dave gave me the gift of music.

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So many more stories. Life may have looked bleak but there were so many moments of light, love, laughter and faith. Looking back it’s easy to pick out different days and give them a name: good day, bad day, etc. But in the moment each day was what it was: a day.

This journey taught me that the day I’m in is my favorite day because it is as precious, if not more, than the past or the future. Right now is a gift even if I have to look for the good.

Today is my favorite day.

Script Synopsis: “The Angel of Death visits a mental hospital to collect someone on his list, he accidentally reveals himself to the wrong person. After struggling to convince the patients of his identity, Death attempts to correct his potentially fatal mistake and demands to know which one of them is actually the one he came for. But the patients refuse to give up their friend’s true identity, even after Death insists that if he doesn’t perform the touch of death within the allotted time, the consequences could be disastrous. Death must resort to drastic measures and even joins the group sessions in order to win this deadly battle of wits.” – Cheating Death by Kamron Klitgaard

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The Angel of Death was constantly lurking… My, that sounds overly dramatic. Ok, so she wasn’t lurking and typically would just burst into my hospital room with a smile and a “Hey, Aimee’!” – that was the relationship I had with my very own, specially assigned, physical Angel of Death. The other less obvious angel, he lurked. He excelled at lurking. If lurking were an Olympic sport he would have had dozens and dozens of gold medals.

He lurked in the obvious places: the times I went into cardiac arrest from the chemo, the staff infection, the fevers over 105 that wouldn’t break, the reactions to blood transfusions, the lack of successful platelet transfusion, etc. He had far too many obvious places to lurk.

He lurked in subtle places, too and it surprised me where he was found. He lurked in  places that were so mundane that I never expected to see him. How mundane? Brushing ones teeth, does it get any more mundane than that? I brushed my teeth 3x each day for 36 years and did not give it much thought, then WHOMP,  leukemia comes along and I simply could not just brush my teeth. Bleeding became a big issue, like I could bleed out and die from brushing my teeth too hard. My Rock had to order special toothbrushes for me to use, and there were days that I was not allowed to brush my teeth even with the special toothbrushes. Then there was my habit of biting my lip when I was stressed or thinking. Yep, that habit could have killed me. My oncologist saw me biting my lip one day and said, “Stop that! You have no ability to clot or fight any type of infection. Chewing your lip could kill you.” WHOMP! To this day I give pause when I brush my teeth or start to bite my lip…

I wish I could say that those were the main places he lurked. Sadly, he also appeared to my Core Four, sometimes so subtly that I didn’t always catch him in the moment.

Let me try and set the scene for you…

My room on the DNR floor was considered protective isolation. However, this was before the new, fantastic and I’m-so-excited-they-now-exist rooms for protective isolation. The rooms now have reverse air-flow which means that the patient is protected, as much as possible, by the environment. In 2004, where I was on the DNR floor, protective isolation meant that anyone who came into my room had to wash up and put on a sterile gown, gloves and face mask before entering. The same procedure applied to me if I were to leave my room. The angel of death lurked behind every person who entered my room, and in all of the people I saw when I left my room. Those were obvious places for me.

I wish I had been more aware and proactive about the subtle places that he lurked. Days when my children would get excited to go on a walk with me (a walk was me trying to walk a lap around the 7th floor to help keep my strength up). They would be able to take off their sterile garb and I would put mine on, and then hand-in-hand we would open the door to begin our adventure. But, some days…. too many days… we would have to pause and quietly wait as a body was being wheeled passed us on the way to the morgue. Watching my children watch that… Only later did I realize that they caught a glimpse of death waiting for me in those moments. This shaped them and reprogrammed how they view life. I wish I had thought to put my arm around them and say something comforting and reassuring. I didn’t. I’m not sure I could have. But I still wish I had.

The angel also lurked by the elevators. I grew to dread the elevators on the 7th floor. They greeted me every Thursday when I was wheeled down for my weekly bone marrow biopsy. Several Thursday’s I had a very high fever and felt just horrible, but those doors always opened and swept me away to the surgical unit. But those days did not compare to the days the angel would quietly be there as I walked my Core 4 to the elevator to say goodnight. These times started off as precious! I was so thankful that I had the energy to walk that path, even though it would completely wipe me out. It was a victory lap for me, mentally. Every time we made it to those elevator doors my son would turn and say, “Goodnight, mommy, will you still be alive if I can come see you tomorrow?”

Every time.

It was a legitimate question.

Those moments still haunt me.

This was my Uninvited Guest:  the Angel of Death

I was blessed with a fantastic group of supporters who did their best to help me cheat him. I’ll share some happy times where we actively worked to cheat death. Some hilarious and heart-warming moments. They still make me smile.

That’s the beauty of life, the mixture of all of the moments: sad, happy, haunting, dancing, angry, stubborn, peaceful… So many moments all mixed together to make up life. The greatest moments are filled with love. That doesn’t mean that the moment is all wrapped up with a beautiful bow, but it does mean that we are blessed.

Time is a funny thing. It is constant, but it can seem fluid. Time became something that was tangible. I could hear it. I could see it. It was like living in a gigantic clock. Most times were actually spent in silence. I was waiting. I was learning. The nurse educator spent a lot of time in my room wanting to answer any questions that I had, but I had no idea what questions to ask.

The day after my DuoPort was finally put in we started the main chemo. How do I describe receiving that first dose? I remember signing countless forms. I remember the two nurses walking into my room wearing lead vests, gloves and protective head gear. I remember them hanging the bag of chemo, it was bright orange. I remember them telling me how I could start to feel. I remember them saying that they would stay with me for the first 30 minutes and then check on me every 15 minutes throughout the treatment. I remember them starting the pump. I remember watching that orange liquid slowly snaking it’s way through the IV tube. I remember watching that orange liquid go into my chest through the DuoPort. I remember feeling numb and scared at the same time.

That day was a long day. It was spent, for the most part, in silence. It felt surreal. It felt tragic. It felt hopeful. It felt right. It was a starting point for me. I was now fighting this horrible monster.

One of my favorite movies is “Princess Bride”, and I watched this many, many times in the hospital. Those who know me know I have a… wicked sense of humor. Humor got me through some pretty dark times. During those early days of treatment I was truly “mostly dead” – the blood of life was given to me by strangers, friends and family. Mostly dead. Yup, that was me. Oh, and I also had to deal with ROUS’s, Rodents Of Unusual Size. Still do. There are ROUS’s everywhere today: current health issues, figuring out a constant new normal, listening to all of the noise of life and trying to sort through what truly matters, etc.

We truly have such little time in this life. Let’s make it count. No matter how many ROUS’s may be around, let’s love a little more, judge a little less, speak truth, have faith, and remember that the One who gave us life in the first place will ALWAYS be here to guide us along if we just listen.