Tonight's picture was taken in May of 2003, at my graduation party. Mattie was a year old. Pictured with Mattie and I is Carol. Carol was my dissertation chair and advisor. I can assure you if Carol allows you to graduate you have earned your stripes. As she always would tell me... "Vicki NOT all dissertations are created equal." Meaning that it took me longer to get my degree because I stuck to my principles and captured meaningful data about caregivers of older adult family members, but in Carol's mind my work was worth the wait. I reflect on that comment now. At that point in my life, completing my doctorate was probably the hardest, most humbling, and challenging experience I ever had! Little did I know that was only good preparation for doing battle in a hospital for over 15 months, and advocating for my most precious asset! Though Mattie did not get the concept of my graduation, he definitely understood the concept of a party, as you can see with his big sweet smile!
Poem of the day: MATTIE by Nancy Heller Moskowitz
It's Tuesday, another week has passed.
I miss you, our child, our son.
Your place on earth gone,
Your fears, your hopes, your wondering,
How life would ever be!
I miss you, our child, our son.
Each day, a picture etched within my soul
Of hopes and dreams,
For you and us,
As Dad and I grow old.
For you, eternity, a final resting place,
For us, work left to honor you.
I miss the warmth of your embrace.
Each morning and each night,
Only to be replaced,
By emptiness and intermittent light.
Others listen and offer their best,
I pray they never are put to the test.
Yet, I am strengthened by the fact,
That we gave our all,
To you, our son,
Our gift, Our life!
As today marks the 42nd week that Mattie is gone from our lives, I reflect on the poem that my friend and colleague Nancy sent to me today. Nancy is very aware of the fact that Tuesdays are challenging days for me, and her poem captures many of the feelings I have now and most likely will always have in my life. With the birth of Mattie came great hopes. Hopes for Mattie's future, and our future together as a family. Now Peter and I are left with only memories and the convictions to help other children like Mattie and their families. As I know others try to listen and understand our pain, it is my greatest hope that none of you will have to experience this first hand, but at the same time step back and appreciate what you do have. I remember the daily stressors, the little things that would set me off in a given day, but Peter and I are living proof that things can get very bad, and when faced with life and death decisions, everything else pales in comparison.
I went to visit my urologist today. After Mattie's death my body was physically depleted and I began to experience various ailments. This urologist has been working with me since October. She is a very competent individual, and I know she takes my case seriously and also to heart. Each time I meet with her, she lands up in tears and sniffling. Mainly because I do not think she knows how she would survive if her children died. Before I met with her today, I had the fortune of chatting with her resident from Georgetown University Hospital. He was young, energetic, and very professional. He could see in my chart that I lost Mattie, and he spoke to me about that. While I was chatting with him, I could also hear the doctor talking to a patient in the next room. The walls are so paper thin. I commented to him on that, and clearly he made a mental note of what I was saying. After he left the room, he then went into the adjacent office to brief the doctor of the information he obtained from me. Like before with the other patient, I could hear their conversation VERY clearly. It is a strange feeling to hear two doctors talking about you, however, the resident must have told the doctor that I can hear everything, and after a few minutes, I couldn't hear anything else. He clearly told her to lower her voice. It isn't only this doctor, I can hear nurses talking to patients in neighboring rooms, so to me it is the physical space. I just shake my head when I visit, because to me it screams......HIPAA compliance issue!
I will spare you the details of the visit, but four things struck me about our conversation today. The doctor always remembers that I wear of piece of Mattie jewelry. Each visit she comments about it. The second thing which interested me is she asked me what I was "doing" now. How I spent my days. Ironically Denise and I just spoke about this word, "doing" yesterday over lunch. In comparison to my former life, pre-cancer, I was a DOER. That defined me, now I sometimes grapple with how to answer that question. However, Denise helped me see yesterday that I am DOING. Grief work is doing, and keeping Mattie's memory alive is doing, keeping the Foundation running is doing, and the list began to grow as Denise and I were talking. So in essence I was able to articulate today what I was "doing" to the doctor. The doctor was simply astonished with all that Peter and I have been through that we want to devote our time to helping families battling cancer. By not just throwing money at a problem, but instead investing our time, energy, and hearts into each project we take on. Her amazement caught me off guard, because to me, it is quite natural that after surviving hell, one would feel compelled to help the next person walking this awful road. The third item we discussed was where Mattie was buried. She asked me if I went to visit his grave site. I told her that I did not have to because his ashes were at home with me. She too is Catholic, and had many questions about the whole cremation process. She wanted to know if Mattie's ashes were in an urn, and I enlightened her that urns are rarely used anymore, since people choose creative ways to store and display a loved one's ashes. The final comment that I reflected on throughout the day was her point that certain doctors should be given training on how to deliver bad and difficult news to family members. I told her that in my opinion this should be mandatory for ALL physicians. I then proceeded to tell her that no matter how devastating information is delivered, it will simply be bad. So I don't think classes need to teach the delivery per se, as classes should address instead the follow up care that should be provided to patients. The beauty of Georgetown in my mind is that yes we received the worst possible news. However, the doctors NEVER turned their backs on us, and helped us through Mattie's death and beyond. Even today, we are very connected to several of Mattie's doctors. When you lose a loved one, the impact of that news isn't just on the day you hear the news, but the impact lasts a lifetime. Not all doctors are willing to commit to this kind of long term relationship. We are fortunate enough to have found a rare breed.
After the doctor's visit, I went to visit with Ann. We had lunch together, and her friend and neighbor, Tina joined us. Since it was incredibly hot today, 105 degrees!!!!, Tina invited us back to her pool. We all had a fun time watching the kids and Tina's dog, Max swimming in the pool. It was a wonderful setting to be surrounded by trees and to be around a very normal summer experience. Children playing, having fun, around a pool. Nothing in my life is normal anymore, so when I have these moments of normalcy I do land up reflecting upon them. I also reflect on the generosity of others in my life. I know people want to help us as we deal with our grief, and I guess I want to say every kind gift, invitation, and message does not go unnoticed.
Peter did go to work today, and he appears to be feeling better. But the recovery from what he and I had has been very slow. I would like to end tonight's posting with a message from my friend, Charlie. Charlie wrote, "I hope Peter is feeling better today. The heat makes it even more exhausting when you don't feel well. It sounds like you had a good time at lunch. As you said, sometimes we all need a reality check and it was lovely of Denise to provide one in such a positive way for you. You are a terrific teacher; not everyone is as well liked or respected as you are. Even though the classes for the cohort ended late in the evenings, I remember waiting after class to speak with you and seeing many of my classmates doing so as well. I do hope you can find your way back to teaching as you have so much to give in that arena. Time may put a scab or a scar on a wound but that doesn't mean it is gone, only closed over so that we can resume doing our daily tasks. Words, events, memories can all break that open in a moment and cause you to be "elsewhere" or overcome by emotion. As time passes those moments may become shorter or less frequent but they will likely happen for the rest of your life. Losing someone you love, particularly a child, impacts your life forever. Mattie will always be a part of who you are and that's a good thing. I hold you gently in my thoughts."
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