Hi Pastor John,
I had the opportunity to visit Aunt Song today during her chemotherapy session. It impacted me greatly. I wrote down my experience and wanted to share it with you.
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I was able to get a pass to come and sit with her because of wearing my employee badge. She sat in a corner next to a big window. She was resting peacefully in the recliner, surrounded by pillows and a blanket, with a pretty scarf covering her now hairless head. She seemed to glow in the soft sunlight that came through her window. I sat down next to her, intending to stay only a few minutes while she rested. She opened her eyes slightly, which seemed to smile, and she said she wanted to see who sat down. She said it was nice to see a smiling face. I stroked her forearm that was resting on the chair, but remembering that I should keep my distance, I removed my hand. She said my cold hand felt good, so I stroked her arm again. For a moment, it looked like she had tears welling up in her closed eyes. I closed my eyes too and felt the peace that seemed to emit from her, and the love God has for her. She slipped back to sleep under the influence of the Benadryl they pre-medicated her with. She woke again when a nurse came by to drop off her meal tray. She held Song’s hand and got close to her face and sweetly asked if she needed anything. Later, Song needed to go to the bathroom, so I put her shoes on her feet, unplugged her IV pole and slowly walked beside her and her IV pole down the hall to the bathroom. While walking back with her to her chair, I didn’t feel like I was in a hurry, but I felt that my pace was much too fast for her. She had become more fragile, slow, and careful with her steps. I had to be intentional about the speed of all of my movements, even putting the blanket over her feet. I didn’t feel like I was rushing, but in her state, it felt like slow, careful movements with pauses to allow her to regain her strength and catch her breath were not only required, but also were a sign of being thoughtful during this vulnerable time for her. Once she got situated, I asked if she wanted to try to eat. Walking to the bathroom and getting situated in the chair seemed to wear her out, and she said she wanted to close her eyes again. I wasn’t sure if I should stay or go, so I sat down in the chair and waited for a moment. After a few seconds of resting, she started telling me how kind Gary had been to her. She told me that she told her granddaughter, Kate, to not get married to anyone unless they are like Pastor John, or Gary, or Uncle Earl, someone who has given their lives to God, and where everything else is second. She said to be prepared if you do marry someone like that because you, too, must be that way, fully subdued to God. I told her that if I ever had cancer, I hoped I would go through it as gracefully as she has, and her response was, “you will.” She spoke very slowly, with pauses, eyes closed most of the time as the toxin was injected in her body through her port. She told me about watching the pre-trials of the Olympics and watching the swimmers, and how beautiful that was. She saw the robust, strong, lively bodies of the swimmers, and admired that while her body had become more frail. There was absolutely no bitterness in her. She spoke of her love for Gary, and how helpful and kind he has been to her. She said she would have blood work and another scan after her third chemotherapy treatment to determine if she needed more. She said, “I hope it’s enough.”
Things I took away from this visit.
- Match the person you’re visiting. Don’t be in a hurry. Be slow with movements. Don’t have a timeframe or an agenda.
- Marry someone who is devoted whole-heartedly to God
- It was truly an honor to be in her presence. She had no bitterness; she voiced of her love and dependence on Gary and the gratitude she felt for his good care for her.
- Our bodies are not our own. God will do whatever He wants to with them to get us closer to Him. We may have to endure hard things, but it will be worth it to keep a good attitude and trust him all the way through. It is the biggest blessing to have someone who cares for you when you’re going through hard things.
Being in the setting of oncology treatment was so much of a slower pace than I am used to in the clinic where I work. Patients were sitting around for hours, resting, sleeping, so fragile, and had to surrender to the poison that would hopefully treat the cancer. It was such a different speed of life and different outlook on life than where I come from in my clinic where everything is fast-paced and where there is room for bad attitudes for minor life inconveniences, whereas in oncology, those patients are fighting for their lives, and the simple things are most valued.
I left her feeling a stillness in me.
Anna
