Skip to main content

Have a seat, Elizabeth.

As the grayness of the weather dripped off the corner of the building, two hoodie-clad teens ducked under cover of the front entrance to the doctor's office. They were probably taking the same cover that every other bus rider did at this stop when the weather was nasty. And it could be nasty a lot.

On the other side of the glass, I sat and observed. They laughed and talked without even noticing me in the deafeningly quiet waiting room. I shifted in my chosen chair and crossed my legs to the other side. I hate waiting.

I took out my phone, sent a message to a couple of caring friends who knew my whereabouts, then just sat staring at my phone for a bit. After unsuccessfully trying to busy my mind with an inane game on my pod, I resigned myself to staring out the window at the dismal weather. Traffic splashing by. People trying to get wherever they were going. Across the street, an older woman dressed in a heavy winter coat and a scarf over her head was hunched but determined against the wet with bags in hand, walking towards her destination as if she did this every day. She probably did. It reminded me of Rose.

Dear, sweet Rose. Funny, loud, determined, cantankerous Rose. It was to this very office that we brought her when she was so very sick with cancer. I remember vividly walking her in, slowly and painfully. Making sure she was able to get things taken care of with the receptionist, then helping finding a place to sit that would cause the least amount of pain for her. Months prior, I had promised to be with her all the way to the end, no matter how hard it got. It was something I wanted to do.

In the quiet waiting room, I wondered if the doctor would remember me. It has been over a year and a half since sweet Rose went to meet her Savior, and even longer since we were all here together. Back then, the doctor had been so compassionate and accommodating...respectful, for sure. I remember that I really liked him at the time, especially after our last visit. Rose was so sick that she could not even sit in a chair, so he had her lay on a full-size exam table he had set up in his large personal office. We, my friend and I, sat as close to her as we could and held her hand until he came to speak with her. He was so gentle and kind...he knew where her decisions were leading, without question. So did we.

All those ghosts quickly faded when my name was called and I snapped back to reality. I followed the nurse back to an exam room. The exam room. More ghosts were waiting. I'd feel so much better if I wasn't in the exam room of a specialist, even one I liked. I'd feel even better still if I hadn't been here previously with my friend dying of cancer. But, it can't be helped.

Sweet Rose. In a way, she is every bit as faithful to me now as we were for her then. Her memory is with me at every doctor appointment and every hospital visit, whether it's for me or not. I will never again pass a nursing home or the hospice house without remembering her voice and her smile. I am thankful for her presence, if only in memory. And it makes me remember, over and over, that we have absolutely no idea how much we impact the lives of those around us. Rose most certainly didn't.

I don't know the ultimate outcome of this doctor visit. Nor do I fully realize how much impact or influence I have on the lives of others. Humbly, I pray they both be positive.

When I was in with the doctor, he did remember me, and Rose, too.  He also said something significant to me that I found so profound. As he was relating his story at my inquiry of his choice of field, he spoke highly of his mentor, the one that encouraged him to his particular medical specialty. "There is always that one person," he said, "that can completely change the direction of your life."

I couldn't agree more.


asl4god said…
Please let me know how it went, hon. Waiting to hear. I love you!!
Mama Cache said…
I have never met anyone who could paint a picture with words, written or verbal, and take me to a place or a feeling the way you can.

Only music does the same.
Ari C'rona said…
I remember well... oh, so well.

Yes, it's true that there's one person that can change a life forever...

It'll be fine - somehow I'm sure of that. I love you, my dear friend.

Popular posts from this blog

Our History with Saber Forge

UPDATE, April 19, 2012: we purchased new sabers from Ultra Saber LLC. To see a review, go HERE.
* * *
Saber Forge's Ambassador saber hilt
This post is to document and record the history of our experience with a company called Saber Forge. I would like this information to serve as information and perhaps a warning to all that are interested in purchasing a machined lightsaber, and/or are considering Saber Forge.

Saber Forge makes and sells lightsabers to be used as props with Star Wars costumes. When we started looking to purchase lightsabers that had the ability to light, Lisa posted for information on the Rebel Legion website. She was contacted by Mr. Phil Isherwood, owner of SaberForge.

Saber Forge

It is most unfortunate that we have had problems with the sabers. I love the hilt, to be honest, and felt that we got what we paid for; however, the lingering problems and now the complete lack of customer service is most troubling.

[We were so excited about purchasing these blades…

Just Throwin' It Around

I have a friend who just got engaged to be married. As he was detailing the way he proposed to his beloved, something he said caught my attention. In the course of his adult life, dating and living, he had promised himself that he would only use the actual word love towards the one who he was going to marry. He further explained that it was his thought that people 'throw the word love around carelessly' and that it had a special meaning, one meaning. For him, it was only to be used in speaking to his soon-to-be wife.

I can see his point, especially when thinking about dating. I know it happens, all too often, that relationships proceed a little too quickly and emotions peak prompting hasty pronouncements of love and devotion only to be rescinded down the line, after the passion has worn off. Careful and introspective we must be when experiencing and building a new relationship that we don't bite off more than we can chew, so to speak. I agree with my engaged friend - w…


I am a maker and collecter of Artist Trading Cards. In my world, we call them "Letterboxer Trading Cards", because they are made by letterboxers and they must have a hand-carved stamp featured on the card. I have made hundreds, even thousands of these cards, and enjoy the hobby immensely (samples shown are a few of my cards). I also collect them from other artists and letterboxers, and have a collection numbering (also) in the thousands.

So, here's the confession: I HATE LOGGING THEM! Yes, that's right, I said 'hate'. I know, that's pretty strong, but it is the only way I can adequately describe the feeling of dread that comes over me the second after I enjoy receiving them in the mail. If I were a disciplined person, I would immediately make my way to the computer, sign into to my favorite letterboxing site and let these wonderful friends know how much I love their efforts, thus easing their minds that their hard work arrived safe and sound in my care. Bu…