Saturday, October 13, 2012Tonight's photo was taken in October of 2008. Mattie was in the Child Life Playroom at the Hospital with his buddy, Linda (Child Life Specialist). Linda understood right away that Mattie was the kind of kid who needed a task and responsibility. What you are seeing before you was a shipment of gifts that the Hospital received and Linda invited Mattie into the playroom to help her go through the items and organize them. In a way this was a special responsibility, since you can see other kids weren't in the room with them! Weekends were also very challenging for us in the Hospital. You may be asking yourself why. If you have ever stayed in a hospital, then you understand what I am saying immediately. Weekends can feel like a ghost town, because the usual staff aren't working. For example, there wasn't a child life specialist or art therapist working in the Hospital on weekends! Motivating Mattie to leave his hospital room on Saturdays and Sundays was close to impossible. However, Linda gave Mattie the task of feeding the fish in the hallway of the pediatric units over the weekend. This inspired Mattie to move, it was his job, and he wanted to do it well. I think this speaks volumes about human nature. At every stage of our lives (regardless of our physical condition), we want to feel needed and contributing to something bigger.
Quote of the day: I believe that one defines oneself by reinvention. To not be like your parents. To not be like your friends. To be yourself. To cut yourself out of stone. ~ Henry Rollins
Reinventing one's self is exactly what I have been asked to do after Mattie's death. This is NOT a process I asked for, and frankly to me the reinvention occurred much earlier in my life than I had expected. I think as we age, there is a natural need for self-discovery, self-reflection, and reinvention. Typical developmental milestones such as being an empty nester or retiring may cause one to re-evaluate personal and professional aspects and priorities. I knew this was a part of life and eventually I would have to face this, just like so many others before me. But what happens when things do not go according to plan? What happens when things occur out of order (a child dying before a parent)?
When Mattie was diagnosed with cancer, I gave up my job. My new job at that point became my life's greatest challenge and test..... I had to learn, work, and fight within a medical care institution for my son's life. After Mattie died, working at a university with undergraduate and graduate students seemed inappropriate and no longer my passion. Almost like a forced retirement. A retirement from something I trained a good portion of my life to do! In addition, when Mattie died my identity as a parent also died. So I lost two titles on September 8, 2009.... professor and mom. So now what? I am trying to figure out who is Vicki and what her future holds. Grief can make you feel like you are frozen in stone, and it is very hard to chip away at the pieces to reveal what is hidden within.
Last night, the Washington Nationals lost to the St. Louis Cardinals in the division playoffs. For those of you who know me well, you are most likely saying.... Vicki has NOW lost her mind and is talking baseball! Vicki doesn't like sports, so what's up!? Keep reading. For those of you who like major league baseball, my intention is not to insult you, but I feel a MAJOR reality check is in order. I get the excitement, the Nationals went from being an underdog and a losing team, to this year a beauty in motion. Definitely a feat for a town who has gone without having a baseball team for decades. Yet, I am concerned with the laments, crying, and heartache over this loss in the playoffs. I get people love sports, but sports is NOT something to cry over. People are what we should be identifying with and crying over. Loss of life is a heartache, the Nats losing is not equivalent. If you doubt what I am saying, walk into a nursing home, a rehabilitation center, or pediatric cancer unit of a hospital. The reality of the pain that people are facing will hit you like a brick wall. I also take great issue with the salaries given to these baseball players, and if that wasn't bad enough, some of their behaviors and attitudes are most definitely questionable as role models for our youth.
Let me put this further into context for you. Tonight I went to visit my friend Mary in her assisted living facility. As I entered Mary's room, I heard a familiar voice. The voice belonged to one of Mary's former nursing aides, Edy. Edy no longer works at this facility but she periodically comes back to visit her patients. I saw Edy in December, and now today. Edy is a special lady, she loved working with older adults and treated each and every one of them with respect. She had a way of making you feel special and cared for. When Edy left the facility, I was terribly disappointed for Mary. While talking with Edy today, she told me how her family's life has been changed completely as of Labor Day. On Labor Day her 25 year old nephew was visiting friends. He was a healthy young man, going to school, and working to support himself. While visiting his friends, they all went swimming in a pool. He dove into the pool not realizing the depths of the water, and therefore hit his head in the pool, breaking his neck and leaving him paralyzed from the neck down. This beautiful 25 year old with great potential is now living in an assisted living facility trying to get rehabilitated, but his chances for any sort of physical recovery are grim. This family's life was changed in an instant and I could feel the pain, devastation, and sorrow for this loss. These kinds of stories which I hear often, and have experienced for myself within the loss of Mattie cloud my vision and viewpoint. To me, Edy's nephew, my Mattie, and all people fighting for their lives are heartaches and travesties.
But this is the problem with losing a child to cancer. I no longer fit in. I would like to be able to say I understand the devastation of the Nats losing, the Yankees winning (remember I live with a Red Sox cult member), and the list goes on. Sadly I don't, and this makes me feel further removed from society. I can't share in the typical highs and lows that others do, and one of the painful realities of a significant and traumatic loss is being disengaged from others. So in a way, I am not only on a quest to cope with grief but I am on a journey of finding a way to live within a world I one longer identity with and relate to at times.
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