“Okay…” Thalia clapped her hands. “It’s been fun and educational. We’ve met a lot of groovy people. But… I’m done. Three medical appointments in one week has been enough. Can we get back to our old life now?”
Calliope dabbed at her eyes that now drip and spurt if the wind blows the wrong way… or if anybody from the industrial medical complex speaks to her.
“And YOU!” Thalia pointed a finger at Urania. “All compliant and ready to please… providing name, rank, and serial number. Making Typist breathe “lightly” even though our whole strategy going into the machine was to breathe deeply! Rule follower.”
“Did you want to be in there longer? You know they weren’t going to let us out until they got the nitty, gritty, grainy that they wanted.” Urania remained calm. “Now get yourselves together. We meet with the surgeon at 9:40.”
“If women have to lie on their stomach with their face in a donut for over 30 minutes, wouldn’t it be nice if they actually gave you a donut at the end?” Thalia grumbled. Poor muse is having an off day… no twirling.
First… I have been treated with nothing short of great kindness and respect by every medical professional I’ve encountered. I’m grateful for the people, equipment, and drugs that will restore my health. I believe it is possible to be grateful while holding additional feelings at the same time. Like Whitman… I contain multitudes.
Second… Witnessing my mom die from cancer when I was young left a few scars. For much of my life I told myself that if I ever got C, I was going to ignore it and live out the rest of my days as best I could… while ignoring the elephant in my body. Wisdom allows me to change my mind without shame. There have been almost fifty years of incredible advancements.
Third… I’ve been introduced an angel named Gretchen. Her official title is nurse navigator. I don’t know whose idea this was but… Holy Moly! To have somebody, a living person, who is knowledgeable, experienced, in contact with everyone on my care team, and reachable by direct number M-F during regular business hours… Isn’t that amazing?
Blessed be the angels! During my wife’s C-care, the facility had a delightful, empathic (and former patient) woman whose title was “Breast Cancer Concierge.” One entire wing of the building was dedicated to such care.
Her doctor there was a warm, kind human being who always greeted Beth with a hug. He always gave his undivided attention, and gave no indication of being rushed. His nurse was warm, kind, and the Queen of “git-er-done.”
Angels one and all. So despite Beth and I facing a very challenging time in our lives together, the quality of care was palpable and helped scale down our worries.
I’m so relieved to read your remarks today on your care to date. Whitman was so observant. That one might feel helpless over their own ability to address their situation, yet feel incredible help and support from the caregivers.
Please reassure the Muses that “all shall be well, and that all manner of things shall be well.”
I was wondering if Gretchen might possibly have an email address? A physical address?
Most angels don’t know they are until someone reminds them. I’m a someone…
I brings my heart great joy to know typist has friends she can share her thoughts with.
Many more than just the 3… Although using “just” in a sentence to describe what the muses afford typist is like saying a rainbow just isn’t colorful enough…
We are grateful for all of you and are always looking for different ways to transform gratitude from a noun to a verb.
I have a beautiful gratitude post card with Gretchen’s name on it… 😊
When typist sees the surgeon today, she won’t be alone!