I drove through campus at the end of this crazy Monday with mixed emotions. With the morning came the start of several classes in our department, an influx of nearly 70 people - excitement and confusion abound. The afternoon brought trepidation, the stomach churning that comes with the unknown. I was heading to visit a sick friend and, to be honest, I'm not very good at it. A coworker is faced with, not one but, two deadly diagnoses, either of which would be frightening. I'm a crier on a GOOD day so the emotions of standing at the side of a "sick bed" drain me. But old age has brought me to the realization that visiting the sick is not about me but about bringing comfort to someone who has been dealt a tough hand. I hope I'm up to the task of small talk and a positive outlook.
P has been on campus a little longer than my six years, the queen of our mailroom. I don't know her beyond our visits over piles of envelopes which have been regular and even daily at times, talking about families, often disagreeing about local events. She keeps a library of James Patterson books from which a number of us circulated the latest titles. She has been married for as long as I have with two grown sons and a young daughter, a middle-schooler who has been a joy to her parents but is now faced with a critically ill mom.
So I drove across town, frantically bumping through the music on my iPod to avoid anything that might bring tears. Finally... Santana! Thank you, Carlos.
I know I gave no comfort to her family and sat with P for only a few minutes since she wasn't feeling well. I brought her some chocolate for a time when she was feeling up to it and held her hand a bit. When I left, I was struck with the fact that, only two months ago, she was at work wondering if the nagging pain was a returning back issue or a recurring kidney stone. I wonder if I'm doing everything I can to assure the health of my family and even if there is any such assurance. Then the tears came.
My blog title came from "White Bird" which came to mind easily when I remembered listening to the song on her stereo in the mailroom and learning she was a big fan of David LaFlamme and his band, "It's a Beautiful Day". "White Bird....in a golden cage...on a winter's day...in the rain..... " So, I will say a prayer and listen to White Bird a few more times and hope that she has the strength to fight everything she is faced with.
P has been on campus a little longer than my six years, the queen of our mailroom. I don't know her beyond our visits over piles of envelopes which have been regular and even daily at times, talking about families, often disagreeing about local events. She keeps a library of James Patterson books from which a number of us circulated the latest titles. She has been married for as long as I have with two grown sons and a young daughter, a middle-schooler who has been a joy to her parents but is now faced with a critically ill mom.
So I drove across town, frantically bumping through the music on my iPod to avoid anything that might bring tears. Finally... Santana! Thank you, Carlos.
I know I gave no comfort to her family and sat with P for only a few minutes since she wasn't feeling well. I brought her some chocolate for a time when she was feeling up to it and held her hand a bit. When I left, I was struck with the fact that, only two months ago, she was at work wondering if the nagging pain was a returning back issue or a recurring kidney stone. I wonder if I'm doing everything I can to assure the health of my family and even if there is any such assurance. Then the tears came.
My blog title came from "White Bird" which came to mind easily when I remembered listening to the song on her stereo in the mailroom and learning she was a big fan of David LaFlamme and his band, "It's a Beautiful Day". "White Bird....in a golden cage...on a winter's day...in the rain..... " So, I will say a prayer and listen to White Bird a few more times and hope that she has the strength to fight everything she is faced with.
