I woke this morning to these words, "Today is a good day to die," and then, I thought, "Today is a good day to live", and then, I thought it's all true.
I looked up the origin of the words, "Today is a good day to die," and was reminded that they come from Crazy Horse at the Battle of the Little Big Horn. It seems though that the words he shouted were mis-translated. They probably meant, "I am ready for whatever comes."
I think Steve and I have been looking for an "end" to this, a return to "normal", whatever that is, but that isn't how it works. We are in the world of surrender, acceptance, and step by step. I must say I appreciate the awareness, the gratitude that I can walk, bend, lift, do. I also see that we are caught between a reliance on medical care, which we clearly need, and an awareness that doctors are human, and can only do what they can do, and because their work has become more and more specialized, it is hard to find someone to help navigate the parts. I am deeply grateful to my daughter-in-law Jan, who is a doctor, and is helping us navigate. She tells us when it's an emergency, and gives us ways to cope.
Our son Jeff majored in Computer Information Sciences. The idea of that major was an intermediary was needed between the hard-core programmer, and the user. At least that's how I interpreted it. Jeff may see it differently, but what I realize is it would be lovely if there was a person in the urology office who understood more about this particular problem than the regular doctors, who keep saying talk to the urologist, but would have time to listen and discern what is a true emergency, from what isn't. I understand that a surgeon doesn't have time or interest in chatter or reassurance, but there must be a way to train an intermediary to give comfort and consultation. The way it seems to be at this urologist's office is there is someone to schedule appointments, and then the nurses and doctors who are always busy. Imagine though a person whose job was to let you know what was going on, to say there is nothing that can be done, or there is. I realize we all want someone to listen. We want to feel heard.
Years ago, I was going through a rough time. I didn't feel I needed a therapist. I also knew my friends were tired of listening, and yet, I knew I needed to talk. I thought wouldn't it be lovely to have someone I could talk to who was neutral, and who charged less than a therapist because they didn't have the licensing and training. I just needed someone to listen. From that, I decided to set up a walking business, where I would walk with someone and listen. Life changed and I never got it set up but I still love the idea. We don't always need a specialist, but we could often use someone trained to listen, and in the case of medical care with enough information in a particular field to reassure. There are more and more baby-boomers. I would love to see the system supportive of all of us as we mature and deal with what may be new, and may be frightening because it is so new. We have a health care system in place to keep us alive. Perhaps we could make it as humane as possible, because when we are dealing with illness, whether we are the patient, or the care-giver, we are like little children who need a helping hand to cross the street.