Nothing is so simple as greatness

In a world where there is too much crude and rude behavior, too much filth and crime and disrespect, too many people walking around unconscious or arrogant or indecent, there are also the nice, the worthy, the dedicated to goodness and the proper. It is just as easy to do the thing that isn't really right or good or mannerly just as it is easy to eat junk food and donuts. It momentarily satisfies us but never lasts long enough to keep up content. Only real goodness does that, only real goodness can keep us happy and calm and centered. I know this is true because I've experienced it. When I go out of my way for me and my family to do the harder or the right thing whether that is waiting for us all to be together for dinner, or sitting with our family talking or watching a TV show or not letting my kids or even myself do things that really do not seem right, it's effects, the content, lasts. Stuffing ourselves with too many fast food meals or too much of an indulgence makes us exhausted and takes away our holistic happiness and goodness. Giving to others, helping, making people feel good just by a subtle conversation or action or greeting is really a way to bring happiness and wholeness to our own selves. Togetherness allows for good will.

Friday, I was out in the afternoon sunshine which only intensifies traffic and delays. I tried to see a patient who did not answer her phone. I could not figure a way to get into her gated community. As I drove away, I left a second voice mail message asking her to call me as I tried to visit. 5 minutes later she called and asked me to return this time going through the church that is on the corner.

I walked into a huge church hall where there were 4 women in old fashioned sparkling white starched uniforms with aprons tied about their waists and rags tied about their heads. There were about 15 cots with curtains separating them looking like an infirmary. They were stripped of their sheets. The room was shining and smelled of lemon and chlorine. I asked for my patient after identifying myself. The women asked me to go down the steps and go to the kitchen in the far corner of the basement. Down the stairs and through about 200 feet of auditorium I found a huge kitchen with round tables clothed with yellow covers and set with china and glassware and silver and fresh flowers. The stainless steel counter leading to the cooking area gleamed as two young shiny black men smiled as if I was delivering their sweepstakes prize. They wore those black and white chef pants and white coats and had kitchen towels hanging at one shoulder. Big pots were being filled with water. No one was rushed or talking loud or cursing or rapping or even sweating. The tile floor and open windows allowed the room to remain cool without the stuffiness and staleness of an air conditioner. I saw a lady wave to me from the back saying, "Oh, you must be my nurse" in a sweet sing-songy kind of way. I barely noticed I was the only white person there as another white lady in a large flowery dress and a tan straw hat said "good morning" in a thick Southern accent. I guessed everyone here had some connection to the South.

My patient greeted me and then led the way through a long hall, up about 40 steps which she climbed without hesitation and then out into a court yard where she introduced me to the community care manager nurse, the handyman, the gardener, the gate guard and a few neighbors; all humble and seemingly good with generous smiles and genuine friendliness. It all seemed so non-judgmental and accepting as if this in itself would save me. I felt like I needed to catch my breath and hoped I'd be invited to stay for a few days. I wouldn't need a thing as this place seemed to provide whatever you may need at any given moment. I felt when I stepped into the threshold of the doorway of the church's hall I was bathed in an invisible light that allowed me to be seen only by others that had be also "lit" and visa versa. I admit this sounds strange and it also felt strange in a very good way. I felt emotionally hugged as we made our way around the small community.

My patient's first floor apartment was one of about 50 duplexes that made a large square with a picture perfect garden and courtyard in the center for the residents to walk or read or talk. She opened the door with a key and I thought the locked door was strange. Maybe we weren't in heaven after all. Inside it was small and cool. Beautiful furnishings from a long ago life made this area a definite home, a personal haven from the mingled church community. She was free to shop and cook and live "alone" or she could join whatever activity she so desired. There was a weekend bus trip today to Atlanta. There will be a dinner tonight that will include singing. She belongs to the choir and as she tells me about it I picture her in a ruby red robe clapping her hands hidden beneath large flowing sleeves. She says she stays busy volunteering and is seldom in her apartment. This is a Baptist Church community run by a pastor and a doctor. Her doctor, who is a member of this church has an office around the corner and seems to treat this patient rightly and kindly. Her 3 medications are available and she is aware of their indications and usage. She barely needs me but tries to make me feel useful by her gratefulness. When asked she tells me she pays a small rent as she has been here about 20 years and says she does not know if everyone pays the same amount. Her nephew visits often and is available for her whenever she calls him.

I was really stunned as this is the opposite scenario I usually encounter. She walked me to the gate and waved as I bounced down the street to my car and back to the traffic and the other world, the bigger one, with all kinds of people and points of view. Now, instead of noticing the litter and the junkies and the otherwise unheavenly I felt the goodness and the hope as I made my way through the day.

That night I went to my church community and volunteered a few hours at a home and school fundraiser. I thought we had way too much candy and soda. I also thought the organizers spent tons of hours getting this "family bingo night" together and I was grateful. There was great prizes and pizza and hot dogs and cake and coffee. The teachers and the sisters and the families all played together and sent and received emotional hugs around the room. After cleaning up we left late; tired but happy. I realized nothing good would come from not being involved with this community I live in, nothing would feel as special. We do not have elder living quarters at our church. I couldn't imagine us all living together in a sort of commune without caring about how much we had or how much more we needed but only caring about the doing and the helping and the good. I am thinking about suggesting it but maybe I'll wait until I volunteer a bit more, and am more worthy to contribute ideas along with time and energy and love. Maybe they'll let me volunteer in the kitchen.

The other day after finishing the dinner dishes I fled to the front porch with my book. I am lucky enough to live in the middle of the city across the street from a beautiful park. I can just sit and look at the rustling leaves of the trees and take some deep breaths and feel better. We and our neighbors garden and cut the grass and hedges and edges like we know how to be suburbanites. We pretend.

All of my neighbors have a porch like mine and the same park across the street. I wonder if any of them enjoy it as much as I do. I can think of a few who do. I have strewn summer lanterns and a few new candle holders and a home made crocheted blanket (from the flea market) over the chaise lounge. Summery and festive.

My son was scouting in the refrigerator and the other two were wrestling in the basement. My oldest was at the gym. I was ready to read for about 20 minutes. As I tried, my eyes kept closing. I felt like an old lady on the rocker with her knitting (I couldn't knit a square if you paid me)(which, of course, I regret). As my head nodded, I heard a WOODPECKER knocking his beak on a tree. We've been hearing him lately. The sound lulled me into a deep nap. I was hypnotized.

I tried to find the little bugger in the tree but couldn't locate him. The trees are suddenly lush with dark green leaves. The grass is full sprouting dandelions and wish weeds. Remember picking them as a kid and blowing on them to spread those wishes around? Now I curse them as I DUST constantly...Dogs leap about, not too hot and not too cold, finding canine friends to chase. Fireflies have found there way back into the darkness. I can't decide on my favorite time of day in the park. The early morning is lovely and dew-ey and cool but I only get to see that maybe 2 x a year since I cannot drag myself out of bed 20 feet to the park. I always put it on my "goal list" : get up real early to walk in the park with Olive. Well, Olive sleeps later than all of us. I find her wrapped in the arms of one of my kids some mornings with her ears and curly black hair sticking up around the pillows like some wild woman. lol. Of course, night time is a favorite time in the park and I have gone out there really late and just walked for a few minutes. It is also very cool and quiet and dark. Sometimes the nighttime birds are singing, sometimes the fog horn is sounding in the distance. The squirrels are all sleeping dreaming up schemes and hiding places for their various finds. And the woodpecker is quiet. But in my mind I hear him. As I sneak back into the house and under my flowery quilt I remember the woodpecker and I am lulled, once again, to sleep.

Most of my patients, whether men or women, black or white or asian, older or younger, educated or not, all appreciate when I look especially nice. I do not mean all dressed up or made up or lots of jewelry but a simple, thoughtful sweater or scarf or pin or blouse.
Today I was seeing a patient who is confined to bed because she is too weak to get up. She was in the Hospital for about two weeks because the last time I saw her she presented with confusion, very low Blood Pressure, vomiting, anorexia (decreased appetite), tingling in hands, and inability to ambulate short distances or even pivot from chair to chair without assistance.

This member is really not that old..she is 69 years old. She is a big (tall and plump) black woman with the softest face you've ever seen; you just want to hug her when she greets you with her big white teeth smile. Her house is on a rough street; inside it is cool and feels like a respite from the "hood". The furniture is all white and over sized. The floors are blond hardwood covered in zebra print area rugs, there are wooden tribal masks hanging on the walls and her glass top dining room table is held up high by a bronzed elephant. Her house is clean and neat. There is usually chicken stew on the stove or turkey sausage and greens sizzling in the oven. She drinks iced tea out of long sweaty glasses filled with ice. She thanks and praises the Lord and is genuinely happy.

Well, two weeks ago I had to send her to the E.R. I rarely send people to the hospital because I believe they really do not get better there unless it is something that needs to be investigated or treated in a very aggressive manner. And besides, it is my job to keep people OUT of the hospital if at all possible. It turned out her Calcium level was very high due to an overactive gland (?thyroid). She is home now, upstairs, in bed. Her nieces, as usual, visit in assigned intermittent patterns so she has all her meals and medications and gets taken to her doctor appointments. She is about to cry when she apologies for her messy home. She is mortified about being confined to bed and not able to walk down the stairs. Good thing this is temporary. I was glad about that because most of the time I do not see a lot of people getting better and healthier on a continuing basis. When I bent over her to take her blood pressure she took a long deep breath and said "Oh, you smell soooo good". She clutched at my shoulder and sniffed in about my neck and hair like you would a baby who just was plucked from a bath. I was glad that made her feel good for just a moment.

Some of my other patients are just waiting to die. They do get a few quality moments here and there but mostly they are old and failing. They fail slowly like the leaves that fall off a tree..a few at a time, until they are bare and cold and brittle. Sometimes there is a resurgence for a while but then a setback and then another and each one ages the person until they sink so deep in themselves that they almost become unseen..like flowers that lose their petals. No fragrance, no body, little beauty. This known fact is accepted by them and me and all the caretakers. All we can do is help get them through the day with a few chuckles or a great conversation or the appreciation of a beautiful day or flowers or even candy along with the pills and the oxygen and the nebulizers and the equipment (thought out and built to accomodate this very road to the END). So when a patient comments "that is such a lovely dress" or "look at that pretty sweater", I feel that their attention has been diverted in a good way for a few minutes. Every now and then I try something different like when I cooked pig's feet for "Olive Oil" or took my dog to visit my patient who likes to feed the grasshoppers. One day we caught a butterfly and I took it over to her in a jar for her to admire and love and appreciate and then we both hobbled to the window to let it go, to let it out on its final journey.

The most decisive actions of our life-- I mean those that are most likely to decide the whole course of our future--are, most often than not, unconsidered.