Should I laugh? Or, should I cry?
I met the coolest, calmest, most peaceful woman I have ever met in my entire existence on this planet Earth. I wanted to miniaturize her, stick her on my key chain, slide her in my pocket and hold on to her for dear life. My very own lucky rabbit’s foot. My own Buddha. My Holy Grail of peace.
She made me want to smile and cry, at the same time.
The front porch light flickered on and off as if a child had just found the switch. We could see it beckoning from a block a way. The entire block was dark as night, because it was. It was night. We exited the ambulance and sauntered to the front door. This was just a simple nosebleed. Nothing to get worried about. And, even if the moon was on fire and the sun extinguished, we wouldn’t rush anyway. We would saunter. We’re professionals.
Anyway, back to the story at hand. We were greeted at the front door by a golden / greying blob of fur. It’s tail thumping on the wall next to the door. It was so happy someone had come to visit it, especially at this late hour. We let ourselves in and saw the elderly lady sitting in the kitchen chair with her head crunched back, eyes staring at the ceiling and streams of blood trickling down the front lip onto a napkin. Infomercial played on the television set sitting in the corner of the kitchen, between the fridge and the stove. The graying golden led the way to her mom.
Her nose was bleeding. We couldn’t get it to stop and unfortunately due to her medical history and the drugs she was on, it was necessary to go to the ED to have it fixed. She didn’t want to go, but she was resigned to the fact. I fed the dog, gave her some fresh water, turned some lights on, and was sad - as if I were leaving my own pup at home alone - as I closed and locked the wooden front door. This dog was loved unconditionally by the patient. And in return, the dog loved her. I, some random jack*ss in a uniform was now separating them. Man, as I write this that pup may be home alone waiting for her mom. And that makes me sad.
So, anyway, she starts talking on the way to the hospital. As I listen my heart rate slows, my breathing becomes easy, and all the troubles in the world seem to slowly fade away. She is engaging. She is peaceful and wise. She smiles, laughs, jokes, and tells me the most horrific story I think I have ever heard. She lost her daughter in a violent crime and in the process was stabbed herself. Bleeding, alive, after being brutally assaulted she laid next to her dying daughter.
That was 25 years ago. She couldn’t have recovered from something like that. Could anyone? Yet, she was at peace. She didn’t hate anyone and lived everyday for what it was for, for what it could become. How did she do that? I would be an old, angry, bearded, drunk with rotting teeth and stale breath. I would grunt at every passerbyer and scowl at moon.
Then, we dropped her off in the ED. After a hug, which felt like I was being smothered in an warm, invisible, fleece blanket, we moved her from my bed to theirs. Every lemming did their lemming thing in the ED and we sat and waited, and talked. And as we waited, she looked at me and told me she had less than six months to live.
I have no idea what I said. My stomach sank, I must have gulped, and became instantly enveloped with sadness. I’m not sad now, as I write this. Because, I met that wonderful, remarkable, peaceful lady and she reminded me how valuable life is. And how important, regardless of ow dismal things may seem, it is to remain happy and at peace. Peace with everyone, and one’s self.
She made me want to smile and cry, at the same time.
The front porch light flickered on and off as if a child had just found the switch. We could see it beckoning from a block a way. The entire block was dark as night, because it was. It was night. We exited the ambulance and sauntered to the front door. This was just a simple nosebleed. Nothing to get worried about. And, even if the moon was on fire and the sun extinguished, we wouldn’t rush anyway. We would saunter. We’re professionals.
Anyway, back to the story at hand. We were greeted at the front door by a golden / greying blob of fur. It’s tail thumping on the wall next to the door. It was so happy someone had come to visit it, especially at this late hour. We let ourselves in and saw the elderly lady sitting in the kitchen chair with her head crunched back, eyes staring at the ceiling and streams of blood trickling down the front lip onto a napkin. Infomercial played on the television set sitting in the corner of the kitchen, between the fridge and the stove. The graying golden led the way to her mom.
Her nose was bleeding. We couldn’t get it to stop and unfortunately due to her medical history and the drugs she was on, it was necessary to go to the ED to have it fixed. She didn’t want to go, but she was resigned to the fact. I fed the dog, gave her some fresh water, turned some lights on, and was sad - as if I were leaving my own pup at home alone - as I closed and locked the wooden front door. This dog was loved unconditionally by the patient. And in return, the dog loved her. I, some random jack*ss in a uniform was now separating them. Man, as I write this that pup may be home alone waiting for her mom. And that makes me sad.
So, anyway, she starts talking on the way to the hospital. As I listen my heart rate slows, my breathing becomes easy, and all the troubles in the world seem to slowly fade away. She is engaging. She is peaceful and wise. She smiles, laughs, jokes, and tells me the most horrific story I think I have ever heard. She lost her daughter in a violent crime and in the process was stabbed herself. Bleeding, alive, after being brutally assaulted she laid next to her dying daughter.
That was 25 years ago. She couldn’t have recovered from something like that. Could anyone? Yet, she was at peace. She didn’t hate anyone and lived everyday for what it was for, for what it could become. How did she do that? I would be an old, angry, bearded, drunk with rotting teeth and stale breath. I would grunt at every passerbyer and scowl at moon.
Then, we dropped her off in the ED. After a hug, which felt like I was being smothered in an warm, invisible, fleece blanket, we moved her from my bed to theirs. Every lemming did their lemming thing in the ED and we sat and waited, and talked. And as we waited, she looked at me and told me she had less than six months to live.
I have no idea what I said. My stomach sank, I must have gulped, and became instantly enveloped with sadness. I’m not sad now, as I write this. Because, I met that wonderful, remarkable, peaceful lady and she reminded me how valuable life is. And how important, regardless of ow dismal things may seem, it is to remain happy and at peace. Peace with everyone, and one’s self.
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