survivor – The Time that is Given

For many of us, another “new normal” begins today. Here in South Carolina, salons can reopen, restaurants can begin limited indoor seating, and some businesses are starting the process of resuming operations with a well thought-out plan. I’ve lived many a “new normal” in my lifetime. Through the years I’ve been asked some wonderful questions and one of my favorites is this: does change ever become routine?

Interesting question. A valid question.

My answer has always been that I just go with the flow, or something to that effect. Truth be told, every new normal chips away at the strong walls I started building around myself in 2004. These walls were built with the best of intentions, and, frankly speaking, their construction began before I was fully aware of them. This is one of the many reasons that I connect so strongly with Wicked – and my favorite song, Thank Goodness. Glinda beautifully sings this celebratory anthem and perfectly hints at the cost of past and current choices with the phrase, “there are bridges you cross you didn’t know you crossed until you cross.”

The walls and bridges that I have built in my own life… well, they seem a bit worn and in some disrepair these days. That’s a good thing, I think. It’s a vulnerable state that I never could have imagined. I desperately wanted to be “a good and faithful” cancer patient, and I still find myself auditioning for that part whenever I meet a new doctor, specialist or physical therapist. I need to change this habit. Change: deciding to build a different bridge. This part of me will always be under construction.

God created me to be a generally upbeat person. I love a cheerful response, a quick joke (a sarcastic one, if I’m going to be transparent), a positive outlook… But, sometimes these traits feel like a proverbial prison.

I’ve always thought of myself as an Elphaba, but I’m discovering that I’m a Glinda.

It’s a struggle to ask the difficult questions in a perky and optimistic manner. There never seemed to be the right place or time to say things like, “I don’t want to die” or “I want to see my children grow up.” The few times I gathered enough courage to say them I was met with, “don’t think like that” or “you need to stay positive” or “I KNOW you’ll make it.” Oh how we love living in a Pinterest world full of sayings that can heal all hurt, comfort all sorrow and turn a frown upside down. My personal favorite is “every time God closes a door He opens a window” – I certainly need more upper body strength for that type of life. 😂

So, how does one walk on the sunny side of life when one can’t even walk? How do we navigate the new normals of today? We do it together.

COVID-19 has brought up many long-buried thoughts and feelings, and I doubt I’m alone in this. We all have moments in our past that have influenced our thoughts, feelings and direction. As we find ourselves in another new normal I hope to walk alongside my fellow humans as we navigate each step. We may come from different paths and have learned different things, but I think we all will find that we have far more in common than we thought if we just listen, give space to be understood, and work together to create this new normal – the inevitable routine of change.

COVID-19 has provided many with the opportunity to spend more time at home. Granted, some of the “opportunities” have been quite challenging. Working from home sounds perfect, but it comes with its own set of challenges. Then there’s the additional joy of homeschooling. Then the emotional challenges of social distancing. Working from home became its own logistical nightmare from which hilarious memes, vlogs and social commentary have arisen. To quote Hannah Montana, “it’s the best of both worlds.” I applaud each of you in this group! Every day you do your best to keep it all together while helping your community by staying apart from others. Many wonderful new memories and habits have been born out of this unstable time.

COVID-19 has provided many with the challenges of working more hours and spending less and less time at home. It is this group that I find myself thinking about the most. It would feel good to tell you that I do this because of my concern for those who are working on the front line, but that wouldn’t be entirely true. As with almost every aspect of this pandemic, I find myself reflecting back to my isolation days. What has surprised me the most are the triggers that I’ve been experiencing. The old faithful triggers include the smell of broccoli, the crinkle of the white paper that cover exam tables, quilts, the smell of saline, Fuddruckers, dates on a calendar, sounds in a hospital, purple colored walls, the loud clicks of a wall clock…

The biggest new trigger: face masks.

During my stint in protective isolation (this was before the lovely hospital rooms of today) everyone who entered my room had to have on gowns, gloves and face masks. Due to my unique form of cancer, I had an unusually large medical team. Throughout the course of a day I would see up to 25 different hospital staff, each one of them given the proper protection before entering my room so that they would not bring something in that would kill me. It was unnerving, especially in the beginning, to not have the normal identifiers we all use when seeing our family, friends and colleagues. I had no idea what the majority of my healthcare team members looked like.

How did I identify them? By their eyes.

It’s been said that the eyes are the gateway to the soul, and I’d have to agree with that. While I had many members on my team, there was a core group that I had every day. These people became family. My core team consisted of my oncologist, a nurse educator, 4 nurses, 2 nursing assistants, the angel of death, and 1 housekeeper. Not a week goes by that I do not think of these people. They walked through the fire with me in a way that no one else could. So many times I would be in a great deal of pain and would cling to a set of familiar eyes as work was being done to help me. My oncologist delivered news, good and bad. My nurses were in the trenches with me – so many life and death issues that they had to handle… My nursing assistants helped me with all of my day-to-day tasks. The angel of death… well, I’ve written about her before. My housekeeper deep cleaned my room every day and never ever said a word about the amount of hair that she would have to sweep up. (I cannot begin to explain what a gift that was! She had the ability to clean, carry on a conversation, and leave having made my day brighter. A true gift!)

Personally, I hated wearing a mask and every time I have to wear one now is a big trigger of the not-so-great variety. Today I am focusing on the positive triggers, the ones that remind me of the extraordinary humans that took care of me while I was most vulnerable. Those masks brought my focus solely to their eyes, and in those eyes I saw so much love and care while they offered me unending comfort.

I am a proud sister and aunt to 3 extraordinary humans who are on the front line of our healthcare workers in today’s pandemic. Let me introduce you to my sister, Lisa, my nieces, Mandy and Caitlin. They have been and continue to take care of so many people with love, kindness, respect and honesty. I love them.

They have amazing eyes!

Moving forward I will do my best to look at the eyes of those around me – to not focus on the panic I feel while wearing a mask, but to take a beat and truly see those around me. I’ve lived this #separatebutnotalone life before and I have learned that a great deal of comfort can be given and received when I truly see those around me.

Tag: survivor

Quattletine, Blog #8, Thank Goodness!

Quattletine Blog #7