Again and again I’ve been bowled over with gratitude for the skillful and compassionate nurses, technicians and physicians who have cared for me during this journey…
As I’ve been rolled in and out of surgeries, cared for in recovery rooms, carefully injected with chemo and positioned to the millimeter for radiation.
And for the health care system that has foot the bill.
But some of the most spectacular, gratitude-invoking work to date happened last Friday.
I arrived at the hospital cracked open with despair and found my way to Psychosocial Oncology. I cried uncontrollably as I awaited an initial, impromptu meeting with a social worker. I was barely coherent as I unloaded my long list of troubles to the patient, level-headed young health worker who had generously squeezed me into her day.
And somehow, she put me together again.
She listened, she made notes, she spoke gently and logically. She divided my troubles into chunks and assured me we’d work each chunk, together.
And I was able to go on.
With immense gratitude.