Friday, August 10, 2012Tonight's picture was taken in August of 2007. It was a summer of innocence because the following summer Mattie was diagnosed with cancer. In typical Mattie fashion, he was playing with something that had parts and he had to build on his own. Mattie could easily follow toy building instructions, but he also did not need a guide or map to create. He just understood at an early age how things went together.
Fact of the day: The average number of passengers arriving and departing at London Heathrow Airport per day is 190,100.
My morning began early because my doctor was doing me a favorite by squeezing me in to see her colleague today. When I got to the office, the office staff was not expecting me and therefore we got into a debate about procedures. Mind you I knew exactly what my doctor wanted me to do, since I spoke with her last night. But I could see I wasn't making any headway with her staff. So I decided to comply with them and while complying, I emailed my physician while she was in surgery. Within minutes she responded and said she was leaving the operating room and would see me in five minutes. Within seconds after emailing her, her office staff seemed to miraculous understand what I was saying, and no longer questioned the directions I came into the office with. Amazing on so many levels. What I have learned from Mattie's illness is that you can't be shy or timid with the health care profession. Unfortunately the loudest and at times the most demanding one gets attention.
After I left my doctor's office, I got on the elevator to return to the hospital's lobby. As the elevator stopped on one of the lower floors, a woman got on with myself and another woman. This woman was beaming with excitement and shared her good news with us. She wanted us to know that the testing she did confirmed that she doesn't have cancer. I did not know this woman from Adam, but for that moment in time that did not matter. Because in that moment, all three of us in the elevator were human and we were clapping and sharing in her good news. I found myself smiling and tearing at the same time. In fact, I was profoundly struck by our interaction, and I told her she was given a great gift today and a second chance on life. She agreed with me, but she was visually shaken up from the emotions of waiting for these life altering results. A feeling I know all too well! When the elevator stopped at the lobby level, I could see she was absolutely disoriented from being on over load. She even had trouble getting off the elevator. So I helped her off and assisted her as she navigated back to the cancer institute at the hospital.
As I got into my car, did chores, and finished packing, I found myself reflecting on this woman I met today. Cancer has a way of uniting people, and I have found time and time again that it doesn't matter what your age, gender, race, ethnicity, social economic status, political preferences, and level of education are, when you talk about cancer or the potential diagnosis, a universal human reaction and emotion takes over.
Peter and I are flying today to London's Heathrow airport. The last time we were in London was for our honeymoon in 1995. In 1995, we went on a land tour of England, Scotland, and Wales. We had a wonderful time visiting each of these beautiful countries. We met many lovely families on our tour and several we still keep in touch with today by letters and emails. So it is my hope that this adventure will be good for Peter and I, since this summer has been very challenging for me so far. The daunting part for me is the flight, and at this point I am not sure who I feel worse for.... me, or Peter who will be sitting next to me! On Saturday, I will be writing to you from Southampton, England. The port home of the Titanic.
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