Saturday, October 17, 2009

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Tonight's picture features Mattie the Magician! Mattie was performing magic tricks for his Georgetown buddies in the Childlife playroom, under the guidance of his magic mentor and pal, Bob Weiman. Magic meant a lot to Mattie, because it gave him the outlet to express himself and develop a skill that was unique and fascinated others.

Poem of the day: A Rainy Day

Things are not as bad
As they now may seem to be
Your life will still go on
Even though it’s without me
These are not tears of sadness
On this day of rain
Please look at them as tears of joy
For I am now free of pain
You can not know the freedom
Or the peace that I now feel
I hope this is some comfort
As you all now learn to deal
The battle now is over
And in many ways I’ve won
While you might think it is raining
I am warm amidst the sun



Today was an absolute blur for me. I did not go to bed until 3:30am, and when I woke up today I was in a fog and not in the best of moods. I do realize that my complete lack of sleep is not helping my mood or my ability to process Mattie's death. However, my mood never improved as the day wore on. For the most part I decided I did not want to get out of bed nor did I want to eat. Peter did get me up and out for about an hour, but then I wanted to come home because I was tired and wanted to go right back into bed. So clearly this was not a good day for me. As the evening approached, Peter and I were invited out to dinner with Ann, Bob, and Bob's family. At first I was debating even going because I had a migraine headache, felt ill from not eating all day, and also thought I was going to be the worst of company. However, in true Ann fashion, she some how pulled me out of the funk I was in, and slowly as I engaged in conversation and listening to others, the fog that I was in began to lift. Today's fog and mood wasn't due to reflecting on memories or any one thing in particular. It was simply a total and absolute feeling that came over me that just left me life less. I would like to say I hope never to have another day like today, but I have learned not to speak in terms of absolutes, nor do I know what each day brings me as I move from one day to the next without Mattie.

I would like to share the Mattie tribute that Dr. Snyder delivered at Mattie's funeral last Saturday. I can't believe a week has already flown by since Mattie's funeral! Dr. Kristen Snyder was Mattie's oncologist and truly understood Mattie and my family. In fact, though Kristen was Mattie's doctor, we worked very closely with her and she treated us as a vital part of Mattie's care team. Because of the nature of Mattie's situation, I always felt very close to Kristen. Maybe because we are close in age, or the simple fact that we respect each other, and I admired her dedication to always do the right thing for Mattie. I think it is very evident from Kristen's tribute that she is a competent and compassionate professional.

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Dr. Snyder's (Mattie's oncologist) Tribute to Mattie

The meaning of the name MATTHEW is “Gift of God.”

Today, I would like to take a moment and reflect, not only on the gift Mattie is to each of us, but the many gifts he bestowed upon all of us.

I am blessed to have been a part of the medical team taking care of Mattie. His fight, his determination, his courage, and the advocacy of his parents Vicki and Peter were and continue to be an inspiration to all of us. At times, I believe, we watched in awe as this family battled and conquered. Their hope, a gift to each of us, telling us then, and telling us now….NEVER GIVE UP.

You will see later today, what Mattie could conjure up inside a cardboard box. As the medical team, Mattie asked each of us to think outside of the box—to make our exams entertaining, to make physical therapy an obstacle course, to make his time at the hospital an exploration of art & design. Mattie made us practice medicine as both a science and an art. Because of this gift “of thinking outside of the box” we are better physicians, better nurses, better social workers, better child life therapists, better physical therapists, better art therapists, better technologists, and better advocates for all of our patients.

Mattie has privileged us with his genuine smile, his unlimited energy, his motivational strength, his unshakeable focus, and his endless, endless, endless courage.

He has inspired us all to come together today, to unite in his uniqueness. Somewhere, sometime in the last 7 years Mattie gave each of us a part of himself and today, as we reunite and share those gifts he is whole.

Shortly after Mattie passed away, I wrote Vicki and Peter. In my letter I said, Our collective loss is a vast chasm.

But our collective love for Mattie is enough to fill that chasm, to overflow that chasm, to spill into rivers of goodness, to irrigate fields empty of purpose and the harvest of this devotion we have for your son and for you will bring forth something so immense and so wonderful beyond which we can imagine.

This will happen.

Of this, I am certain.

It will be one of Mattie’s greatest gifts.
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I would like to end tonight's posting with three messages. The first message is from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I walked through the store this week and saw all the costumes and candy for Halloween. All I could think about was Mattie in his flight suit, then Mattie as a mummy and how he ran his little "business" selling Halloween candy he had collected. I know Mattie only through you and yet, so much of what he did this past year and a half now permeates my views of almost everything having to do with children. I can not begin to imagine how difficult it is for you to make it each day. I do want to tell you I thought the video was absolutely amazing. From "Baby of Mine" to "Dancing Queen," the music matched the pictures well. I am glad you have it and that you have already rewatched it. I think that with time your memories of Mattie and his trauma filled last year will fade some and the beauty of his life will come into better focus. Today I wish you some time to remember the joy that Mattie brought into your lives."





The second message is from Mattie's oncologist. Dr. Kristen Snyder wrote, "I've made it through a week's worth of the blog tonight. Patrick is out with his lab. One of his students was accepted to medical school. Life goes on all around us and yet, somehow, a part of me remains stuck. I can not imagine the part of you that is stuck right now. But I want you to know that I think there are many of us stuck in this moment...in a Mattie Moment. I think too, it is important for you to appreciate the awe of this situation. As I read the blog, I am struck by the number of times Mattie is referred to as a gift. Emails from friends, family, former students, coworkers who mention a gift that Mattie gave them. A gift they find themselves reflecting on each day. It is really incredible. But of course, coming from Mattie...would one expect anything less than incredible? I think not. Your son continues to reach out...and to give. Thank you.I just wanted to let you know that I am thinking of you always. And that always...a part of me is stuck in a Mattie moment. I'm excited to get together and hear about the foundation. It will be an unbelievable success! I have no doubts!"





The final message is from a friend of my sister-in-law's, who I have had the wonderful opportunity to get to know and meet this year. Lesley wrote, "Whenever I open the blog, I take a moment and look at a couple of pictures of Mattie from when he was healthy. Last summer when Lisa went to visit you, I was feeding her cat and I noticed a picture of Mattie on her refrigerator and it was a "healthy" picture where his sweet face was a wonderful focal point. Since I never met your amazing little boy, I only have certain images of him in my mind both the still moments of him being ill and healthy. In all of the pictures, his adorable little cheeks are highlighted by a smile that is so fantastic that it could only come from a place of pure happiness. No matter how sick he was, his smile was radiant because of how you comforted him and made him feel safe. I can not image the images that you have in your mind, because they are not still shots but active moments of pain. In his illness, you created of space where he could smile....I hope you can find comfort in that special gift you gave him. In his healthy times, you clearly offered him so many wonderful moments to explore and embrace life. You did not waste a day of being with him, and you are teaching others about the precious gift of time. As you know, people are waiting to see how they can support the foundation...you are not alone and it will make a difference."