Tonight's picture was taken in September of 2008 in the main hallway of Georgetown University Hospital. As you can see Mattie went around the Hospital collecting all sorts of boxes to create with. I almost forgot about this, until I came across this picture last week. Naturally after Mattie's surgeries his mobility was greatly limited, but by that time, Mattie had a whole hospital brigade programmed to look for and save boxes for him. When I enter the Hospital now for meetings or return visits, walking down this main hallway always is challenging and most likely always will be for me. Because in my mind I can picture Mattie and I together, I can hear his voice, his cries, and his worries. For you see, we passed through this hallway each time he entered the Hospital for an admission. During most admissions, he was physically ill, exhausted, and wanted to just be a normal six year old rather than one who saw and experienced the ravages of cancer.
Childhood Cancer Fact of the Day: Over half of pediatric cancer families will file for bankruptcy (American Cancer Society).
My mom and I began our day by walking over three miles on her neighborhood track. Unlike my walking routine at home, which for the most part is a solitary experience, my mom's track has many neighbors who exercise there. Over the course of the last week, I have met some of her fellow walkers. So in a way her track is a social experience. Today, I had the opportunity to meet an older gentleman and his dog, Rusty. Rusty is part pitbull and doberman. Two breeds which I admit to stereotyping and being afraid of. However, Rusty was as I called him a "pussycat." Rusty is a good companion to this man, and this man certainly needs a companion (from my perspective), since he lost his wife to cancer. What caught my attention about this interaction, was despite the years that have lapsed since his wife has died, the story about how she was diagnosed and the battle she endured were VERY fresh and VERY real. As if this all just happened yesterday for me.
I suppose this man's story intrigued me because his feelings in a way reflect mine. The memories of battling cancer and then losing a loved one are devastating. He described the frustrations he had with his wife's doctors and in her case, her cancer metastasized and her physicians weren't even aware of this until it was too late. I can sense that this man partially blames himself for his wife's death and was told by another physician that if his wife's cancer was caught before it had spread, she may have been alive today. Though I appreciate this medical fact, such knowledge is NOT helpful to know as a grieving husband. This information just makes him feel guilty, as if he could have done more, and he could have done a better job. This is a physician who needs sensitivity training! Believe it or not, this man got so mad at this doctor, that the doctor called the police on him and told the police that the man was a threat to him. Unbelievable! This man couldn't hurt a fly, and if you saw him physically you would completely understand my assessment. Seems to me this doctor needs Grief 101, so that he can be enlightened to the simple fact that anger is a part of grief. The doctor should have realized he was the recipient of this man's emotional loss, and perhaps if he had listened to him rather than called the police, a better resolution to this man's grief process would have occurred. When a helping professional loses sight of the importance of connecting with patients and treating them like human beings, then from my perspective, this professional is no longer useful or effective.

No comments:
Post a Comment