The Little Things

7:15p and I finally smile tonight, about three blocks from home, because I remember that waiting in the fridge is (a bottle of wine) and a Tupperware of dinner that one of my volunteers at work made for me yesterday.  She has come faithfully every week for her whole college career to play piano, sing, and connect with my residents on Memory Support and her loving, accepting demeanor brings a great peace to all of us.  As she was leaving last night, she handed me a bag filled with Spanish rice and peas other goodies that she had made for a dinner party with her college friends.  "But I wanted to share some with you," she said, her face glowing. 

Earlier in the day I found myself standing in the doorway of a friend who was recently diagnosed with bronchitis, most likely because her immune system is compromised because of the chemo for her breast cancer.  Fortunately, her multiple sclerosis has been fairly  manageable during all this treatment.  I had promised to bring her a tea and a hug on my lunch break (she lives a block away from where I work) but when I headed out to her apartment I was on the phone with a dear friend, 29 years old, who had lost her father a few short hours ago to ALS.  So I forgot to get the tea.  And I stood in front of her and just felt horribly guilty.  How could I forget the tea!?!  I was so mad at

myself.  But I had to get back to work.  So I blew some kisses and promised to text later, went back to work and got my residents ready for our weekly Saturday sing-along, which is one of our favorite programs for the whole week.  Basically I pretend that I can sing, and try to mask my voice with bells and tambourines and big smiles and a pianist tries to drown me out and we all have a grand time.  And halfway through Singing In the Rain one of my residents starts having a seizure and it's almost too much and we call the nurse and the show must go on so I start talking about the next song, Home On the Range, which I always introduce as my favorite place- where seldom is heard a discouraging word and the skies are not cloudy all day. 

Later, around, 5p, I am catching up on paperwork and charting and I call my friend again because hey, when your Dad has died the night before you cannot take too many phone calls, right?  And she says, "you know, I'm taking Monday off from work and all I can think is Great, I'll be able to visit Dad."  Because visiting Dad in the nursing home is what she is used to doing in all her spare time.  This I know all too well.  And one of my residents is sitting next to me in my office, and she's saying, "Oh I like you.  Oh, you're okay.  Oh, I don't know what to do.  Oh, I like you."  And those are the exact things I want to say to my friend but instead I fumble all my words and something comes out like, "cry because it's good because you might not be able to cry because you are amazing because it  hurts so much now because at least you can feel and what do you need- wait no, you can't tell me that now, I'm supposed to know what you need, I'm so sorry, I love you so much..." and my resident nods and sighs and throws her cup of Ensure on the floor and gets up and goes out to watch I Love Lucy on the big screen TV in the living room. 

6p and I leave work and go to my health club and try to drown it all out in the pool- I literally get lost in the water and lose track of time but after my swim I am more balanced and focused than I have been all day. 

My friend's father died a week short of her birthday- just like my father did.  She is being flooded by love and support, just like I was.  Her father will not see her get married, like mine won't.  Her father will always be the biggest part of her heart, just like mine will.  She will never regret the years she took out of her life to give him love and light, just like I won't.  They're up there tonight, toasting and laughing and smiling down on us.  All of us.  Everyone.