His Kindness

I got the most unexpected call today. But it meant so much. I was having the worst day. As I'm sure so many of you, could imagine. The last few weeks have been so difficult. Unexpected. And have left me feeling so numb.

In all reality, I haven't processed the last few weeks. I haven't cried much. Haven't begun to grieve. I just feel like I'm in shock. Walking around not feeling. Just going through the motions. This is grief. It's real. It's powerful. It's hard. And heartbreaking.

My Mom's services were just over a week ago. I should have grieved then. Cried. Really felt all the feels. Been present in the day. And what was happening. But I was trying to be brave. Be solid for my family. Since my aunt was diagnosed with lung cancer, days after my Mom's death. She had a biopsy on the day of my Mom's rosary. My already emotional family...is teetering on the edge.

And then there was the financial stress of everything. I seemed head under, from day one. Doing it all on my own. Wishing I had the support of others. That people could see, I needed help. I literally was trying to pay the funeral off, up until hours before. I now owe some relatives. But at least my Mom is at rest. This all after I was attacked by our loved ones, because a friend setup a GoFundMe to help. And I closed it down, almost immediately. I'll struggle silently. Because I can't handle all of that drama. 

This week, has just been slow moving. I'm not sure, what's really been going on. The days bleed into each other. I seem to be struggling to keep going. I've reached out to my PCP, for Grief Support or counseling. And it fell on death ears. 

I'm struggling. So bad. My family doesn't seem to recognize or see what I'm going through. In fact, I haven't heard from any of them. I shouldn't be surprised. Because let's face it. They really weren't around when my Mom needed them. Why would they be here for me?

So I was digging in the yard. Trying to keep up with my Mom's flowers. And deciding what  the dogs and I would eat for dinner. Today was so difficult emotionally. I just sat down, in my Mom's favorite part of the yard. And cried. Just let all the emotions sweep over me.

Then my phone rang. Can we say surprised? It was after 5:30PM. On a Friday evening. And I saw the oh too familiar phone number, of the Cancer Center. Who could it be? Is there an emergency? Why would they be calling?

I answered with a very confused, "Hello?" Tears still silently sliding down my face. To hear my Mom's doctor. His calm and steady voice. The voice I'd come to find so much comfort in. Like a sign of safety. He went on to give me his condolences. A lot like the staff at the hospital, he was shocked to hear about my Mom's death. I know. I'm still in shock. But to hear the medical staff say it...I know I'm not alone. No one saw this coming...

We talked for a bit. I tried to hold the tears in. To stay calm. To keep a steady pace about our conversation. But I just couldn't. For the first time since my Mom's death, I just let it all out. Poor Dr. N. He wasn't expecting all of that. The tears that had started out silently. Came in a waterfall effect. The ugly crying started. I couldn't breathe.

And he was just trying to tell me how sorry he was. To ask me...if there was anything he could do. Not expecting my reaction. Or that I'd really ask for help. I couldn't form words. Much less sentences. My brain turned to moosh. I just couldn't find the words. Finally I asked him, if he could help me find some counseling or therapy. I know...I NEED it.

He promised me, he'd talk to the therapist on staff. Told me, he was there if I needed anything. But honestly, I feel stupid. Like why did I finally lose it? And on him. Like crying so hard, I couldn't breathe. I was literally laying on the floor. Trying to catch my breath, telling him I was OK, and asking for help. All at the same time.

Maybe it's because he walked this journey with us. I mean, when someone sees the same things you are seeing. It bonds you. Even if you don't realize it at the time. Maybe it's because he's always been so truthful with us. That I felt this comfortable. I haven't even fallen apart like this...with family. Not even when I've been alone, have I allowed myself to feel the raw emotions.

I needed this call more than I knew. More than he probably knew. I can now see, how important these conversations are. Post caregiving, I have a completely different outlook on patient care. If I return to the medical field, I'll carry this with me. I'll remember how this call, changed things for me. And how I want to be that for someone else. 

Maybe it was his kindness. The simple fact, that he took 10 minutes out of his busy schedule, to ask how I was doing. Something that no one else has done. What does that say about my circle? How little, people really care about MY well being.

I can feel the bottom starting to shake. I know that I need therapy. A lot sooner than I expected. It's all crashing down around me. I'm starting to grieve my Dad. Who past away over 7 years ago. It's like for the first time in my entire life, I get to put my needs ahead of everyone else. And that's so scary. 

10 minutes. A simple call, from a man that was a complete stranger...2 years ago. But I feel like he understands my needs, better than anyone else in my life currently. We got off the call. And I just laid on the cold tile...crying. For almost 2 hours. It was like he opened the flood gates. And everything just came tumbling out.

From the bottom of my heart, I hope that's not how this chapter ends. I'm sure I made zero sense. Sounded like a buffoon. He was probably thinking, I should be committed. For my safety and the safety of those around me. Because my brain seemed to be short circuiting. I couldn't get the words out right. Nothing seemed to be working right. 

I have so much respect for Dr. N. For everything he did for my Mom. For his care over the last 22 months. The respect he showed my Mom. How he always referred to me by name. Knew who I was. Because in almost every other practice...the staff didn't remember my name. They didn't include my Mom in conversations about her health or care. 

This was the first person, besides nephrology, that saw us as people. Real people. Not just another chart to get through. How crazy, that you can establish a closeness...with people that you don't see often. Yes, in 22 months...we probably made it to an office appointment...during 20 months. There were a few telemedicine appointments in between. But was that enough time, for someone to really get to know you? 

I can't tell you what Dr. N's favorite food is. What he does outside of work. What his family looks like. The same way, he doesn't know much about my personal life. He always asked about my work. But he didn't know what my real career was prior to being a caregiver. How I was also a performer. That I can unload a truck of hay...in stiletto heals and pencil skirt. No, we don't know the details of each other's lives.    

But he recognized that I'm struggling. He anticipated that the grief would come and hit like a HUGE wave. And leave me drowning. He anticipated that better than my family. And he reached out. Something no one else has done.

For a few moments, he created a safe space for me. To grieve. And to cry. To feel the emotions that I've had bottled up, deep inside my soul. For that, I'll always be grateful. I hope that Dr. N, doesn't think I'm crazy. I'm just at my lowest point. Trying to keep my head above water. Long enough to breathe. And keep me going. Until I can find my footing again. I'm forever grateful for his kindness. And if nothing else, I hope he knows that. I am grateful to this man, that took such amazing care of my Mom. 💜