Julia part 4: 12 silent..... awkward..... seconds

It's ok to get pissed.  Im learning that now.  Don't get me wrong.  I don't wanna live that way (thats a whole other blog).  But putting on.... happy-shiny-people every time a bomb goes off... ain't healthy either.      

My home base at work these days is the bathroom. (sometimes I hide there to keep from going nuts). In fact, I spend a lot of time there... and gossip abounds as to what I actually do in there.

 But one thing that I began doing somewhere along the way was reading some of the old ancient Hebrew texts.... in the bible.... (among other books)...

Not in a pious.... churchy way...  But more from desperation...  It was either that... or start taking Prozac......  (I ended up doing both.).

What I found is that I learned a lot about some of the great blues artists of the mid to late bronze/early iron period... (2000-500 BCE).

Just like playing the blues, some of the great historical figures in the Jewish tradition have voiced doubts about their faith.

David (a central figure in Judaism) didn't mind saying exactly how he felt.... Anger... Rage... Fear...

David was one of the first (in writing) to question Gods where-abouts... in a messed up world.

(a very Jewish Jesus echoes those same fears... word for word during his own death).

Job... Begs for death.  Gets sarcastic with his friends... angry with both them and God.....Makes all kinds of demands!!!

A Jewish poet, after watching his country raped and pillaged...... (very young children and old people... displaced.... or brutally discarded....)
writes the seething words to a psalm of hatred and revenge... Not only to Isreals enemies... But also to their enemies children...

Infants...

"a reward to the ones who grab YOUR babies and smash THEIR heads on the rocks".... (Msg).  

Brutal. Ugly... Vengeful.... (Not the Jesus way)...  But honest none the less.

Imagine that this dude was a survivor of 9/11.  Imagine he made it from one of the towers only to watch people escaping the fire above... by free-falling  to the pavement below.  What if this dude witnessed an unspeakable brutality occurring to his own people... maybe his close friends... his own family.... His children...?

In the Jewish world.... this song makes sense... not because it's an answer to the problem... But because it's a true expression of the pain.  In fact..... In the Jewish world... Not only does this song make sense..... it actually makes the Jewish hymnal. (Psalm 137).

Anger!  Hate!  Jealousy!  Payback!!  All part of the Jewish tradition...  All a part of the confessions of their fear and pain and doubt...

ie...."I'm hurt... And I'm pissed.... And I want to know what the F... is going on..."

There's no inappropriate starting place in the Jewish world... It's all a part of the all too real... life (and consequent faith) that make up who they are as people in a jacked up world.

It's the human experience... in all of its ugliness.... and so it's all a part of their blues.

                          •

That said..... it's the opposite of everything I know from my past religious experience.

In my religious world..... it seems that I always had to pretend to know things I didn't know... feel things that I didn't always feel...

*Or not feel the things that I did.... (ie... puberty... adolescence)...   

I was supposed to have easy answers to difficult questions... be evangelical... conservative.... republican..

I was never to question my traditions and beliefs...  I wasn't to be a truth seeker but more of a "cheerleader" for the cause...

When it came to good and bad... I was supposed to (selectively) bootstrap morality....... (they would show you what was important... and what wasn't).. and then fake the rest of it.  No questions.  No doubts.  whatever fell outside of "appropriate"... was kept locked up inside...  Locked and loaded for the inevitable meltdown to come.

                         •

Back in the break room it was starting to get awkward.  12 seconds since Julia had asked me wether I believed in God.  12.....silent...... awkward seconds.

Watchers around us were getting up to leave.  Friends of mine...  "Religious" people who knew my issues and struggles.  Leaving me there alone...  afraid to hear the worst.

But Julia remained with me.  Julia was still waiting on my response....

                        •

A lot of crap goes down in the world.

* Some readers of this blog have reminded me that some of this stuff is depressing........  Then I remind them that it's a "Blues" blog).  

I've seen a lot of crap as a nurse (literally in some cases).  Some of it stays with me...... some of the things that come to mind...

-My first dying patient.

-The time a nurse flung poo onto my undershirt.  (we were cleaning a patient up.... and it was accidental..................I think..).

-the time I had to tell a woman that her sister (who had down syndrome) had unexpectedly died while she was downstairs getting coffee. 

But consistently when I think about nursing shockers... my mind returns to my lady in room 7616.

I was clocking in one day when I 1st heard about her and immediately I was shocked... Then I went numb.

Did you hear about what happened to your lady in 16?  a friend had asked.

I just looked at her.  It felt like I was listening to some celebrity "news" show on TV.

She had to go to the Unit last night. She said.

I was blank and asked her how she was doing.... and she answered... "she didn't make it".

My hands were instantly sweaty and I could feel a wave of heat growing up from behind me.... like standing on the 40th floor of a building on fire....  The no win choice.... burn??? or jump???  I bootstrapped my way through a response.  "I thought she was in remission".... I said.

It wasn't the cancer....  She answered.  Most likely a PE

(pulmonary embolus.... blood clot to the lungs).  

That's ironic isn't it?  she asked....  To find out one day you're gonna live.... and then the next.... that you're not.

I was making my way to the report room dazed... and it felt like the weight of what it feels like when you stand too close to a collapsing building.  But without noticing I shifted into protection mode and made a detour to the bathroom.  I took my book "Catcher in the Rye".  And as I sat there on the toilet I read about how Holden Caufield was leaving everyone....

And I read about how he was talking to his kid-sister Pheobe about a dream that he had once where he was standing in a Rye field.. watching some kids play near a cliff.... And in the
dream.... he told her.... it was his job to catch these kids before they fell over the edge of the cliff....  He was a "Catcher in the Rye".... And that was the part of the book I was reading while I was sitting on the toilet in the bathroom.  And I was trying to read it while my name was being called overhead.... because somebody needed their damn pillow adjusted.... or something stupid like that.   And even though I couldn't fully explain why.......   I felt like I wanted to scream.  And I could feel the wave of emotion welling up in my chest like a heart attack.  But just like the religious world I knew... everything was locked down tight.... nothing could get out..... maybe because I was broken inside... or maybe it was that evolving... thickened layer of skin that nurses have.... or maybe it was just the damn Prozac.


(Next.... Julia 5:  my answer).            

Julia part 3: Deliverance continued....

I was reading a thing the other day where Jesus was talking about the apocalypse and the end of the world (no mention of snow)... and he described the worst of it like "labor pains"... Like maybe all the crap in the world was just labor pains for something else that's coming.  Something better.... More Beautiful.

I was sitting across from Julia.. trying to answer her question about God..... But my mind was still flying through thoughts and images..

I had learned it was a dangerous world...  That's what nursing had taught me.... (and life).  And sometimes I felt like I had been tricked.

Like a fast, hard labor contraction... an image flashed into my head.  A dark room.... A distant light..... the sound of running water....  (... maybe an after-death experience? I wondered)...
My wife Lisa and I had spent 3 years trying to get pregnant the old fashioned way but then suddenly I was spending all my time in a waiting room.... Ultrasounds.... Tests.... Physical exams... (humiliation)...  And within 2 years we were beginning the process.. (invitro-fertilization)... And then I found myself kissing my wife (dressed in sterile hospital blue) as they rolled her back.

30 minutes and she was done.  And then we went home and waited for two weeks and a blood test to see if we were finally pregnant.

                         •

A lot of really good things happen in a hospital room...  Birth's.... (pregnancies.... evidently)...  Healing happens...  Obscure diagnosis's made and confirmed.... And treated...  people can overcome cancer in a hospital room...

When I walked into my patients room, (7616) she was glowing.

(not just the jaundice).

And she was calling me over to her bedside (no one else in the room.  I was the first person seen since she had heard the news).

Come over here....  I just got the news.  She said.  I'm in remission.  My cancer's gone.

(she was jubilant).

I don't like getting too close to patients.  And for a second.... my legs locked.

Come here.  She said.  It's gone.  The doctor just left and told me that my cancers gone.
She was holding her bruised arms out to me ready to receive my hug like we were old friends and I felt some panic run through my legs.  But then suddenly... Like that freaky quantum particle on it's unpredictable path... My legs loosened and my feet began to move and suddenly I was hugging her and from that moment on... all I noticed was how happy she was....  Happy like we were.... my wife and I... when we found out that we were finally pregnant.  Our one and only chance... coming down to this moment, and it had worked.  We were pregnant.

There was a flash of light, like another labor pain.  The light was blurry and distant...  I was laying in a bed in the middle of a dark room...  There was the sound of running water and there were muffled sounds.  Crying.  Sometimes sobbing.  And then I remembered where the memory had come from... And how it had all gone down.

                          •

I remembered holding a video tape like a proud father.... handing the doctor the tape.  It was a routine check.  And I remembered that he didn't start the tape right away... But first started into the Ultrasound... scanning for images that I could never make out... no matter how much he described them.    

But he wasn't describing anything.  And I reminded him to begin the tape.  And he said he would as soon as he found what he was looking for.  And then a bunch of time and silence went by.

After a few minutes he said... guys I'm not seeing what I want to see here.  And I began to realize that what was happening wasn't good.  And then a few minutes later he was saying that we wouldn't make any official decisions without another Ultrasound... But he couldn't see a heart beating.... And he added.... we would return in a few days and check again.

After that there was shock and silence...  And the long drive home in more silence... And there were calls to friends and visits... and prayers... And sometimes there was pleading... But then after everyone went home... We were alone again... tears in our bedroom... lying in our bed... then the lights off... and restless hours till sleep.

But then in the morning.  In that moment of waking... just like all the crazies that I knew... there was the struggle for reality... (was it all real?... .....Maybe it was just a horrible dream).

A flash of light came from across the bedroom.  My wife... turning on the bathroom light.  And the sound of running water... the shower.  And then crying... sometimes sobbing... the confirmation that it wasn't just a dream... But it was true... We had lost our only baby.

I lay there in the dark trying to say something... anything... but my tongue was stillborn thick... and my words wouldn't come out...

But then suddenly as my tongue loosened I said the only words that came to mind...  What if there's no God..? I thought.

                         •

Julia was looking at me... from across the break-room table... waiting on a response.    

Do you believe in God???  She had said.

My body was in the break-room... but I was still lying there in the dark... motionless... sweat running over me like amniotic fluid.... jaw clinched shut with an umbilical cord around my neck so I couldn't speak...  And while I lay there blue from lack of oxygen... I wondered again if we were all alone in this world...  And what would happen next... And if there could be a good answer for Scott and Julia...  And ultimately I wondered if anything beautiful could ever come from something as "fucked up" as this.      

(part 4 to come)...

Malay

Spent some time with a bunch of friends from work on Friday night. One of our friends, her name is Malay, is at MD Anderson today for surgery to remove a recently discovered cancer. It's a very extensive surgery. I'd be lying if I said we weren't worried about her. The get together was a surprise send off and we had a great time (and I don't think it was just the alcohol). But I learned Friday night that laughter is a blues fighter.

We spent the majority of the night talking about the crazies on 7 Tower. My favorite story was about one of our nurse aides who was sitting with a patient. The patient was very confused and while our nurse aide was watching him, he fell asleep (as a sitter you never fall asleep-it's like being a prison guard). Of course, as you could imagine, a lot of bad things could go down in a situation like that. (it sometimes has..... once a naked patient ended up at a quicktrip across 11th street). However, the best possible (and most thoughtful) thing happened. While the nurse aide was sleeping the patient climbed over the bed rails, crawled over to our sleeping "security guard" and covered him up with a blanket.

Lesson learned. Not all crazies are Hell bent on destroying the world.

Mrs. F.

Sometimes there's a part of me that turns into a child.  A little boy.  Just for a second.  Sometimes just a flash of a moment.  Like a flash of hurt; like losing a board game on the floor of some childhood friends house.  And then I want to go home. One of the nicest ladies I've ever met died on Monday.  She was one of our cancer patients (breast cancer).  We diagnosed her on the floor several months ago.  A wound that didn't look right.  A biopsy.  A talk with the physician.  A game plan.  A surgery.  A dose of chemotherapy.  Then another.  The hair loss.  The nausea.  The pain.  The discharge.  The readmission.  The discharge.  The readmission.  The discharge.  The readmission.  The turn for the worse.  The ICU.  The DNR.  The family.  The pain medicine.  The unconsciousness.  The pauses between breaths.  The suddenly slow heart rate.  The slowing. The friend... Husband... Wife.... Partner..... Mother..... Father.... Sister..... Brother..... Son..... Daughter..... sitting beside the bed.  The slowing.   The call from cardiac monitors.  The slowing. The family's concern that somethings not right.  Something has changed.  And finally the slowing to a stop.  This is the way it almost always goes. The lady I knew was a body full of Joy.  She once grabbed the ass of one of my male nurse aides in a narcotic stupor.  And then she apologized like a lady when the medicine wore off. Cancer didn't defeat her.  It took her body but it never took her spirit.  That's the beauty of the blues of this world.  It can never take your spirit. God Bless one of my favorite patients.  May you dance with angels while you and the rest of this universe await the promised kingdom to come.

The 7 Tower Blues

Sitting on my bed with my oldest son (9 years old).  He's laying beside me, drawing pictures of Star Wars "armor, and weapons".  He has no idea the kind of things that happen in this world.

I'm very thankful to have a community of people to do life with.  It comes in handy in times like these.  Working as an oncology (cancer) nurse we have to live with a lot of sad endings.  Just found out about a young girl who we've been caring for, giving Chemo, etc.  She coded yesterday and did not survive.  The things I remember most from taking care of her were the marine like stubble left on her head after she had shaved it from Chemo.  I remember her kids coming to visit.  Small children.  4 or 5 years old.  They will one day have a difficult time remembering her.  I remember being happy along with her when she found out she was in remission.  I remember the day she found her cancer was back.

I don't want my son to grow up and know the worst of what this world is like.  I want him to stay here in this moment sitting next to me drawing pictures of Star Wars stuff.  I want to live in this moment with him, this time right before bed, forever.  But one day he'll figure it out.  One day, on some level, he'll experience something of it himself.  My prayer for him is that he has a community of people to go through it with someday.  Because, as a friend reminded me recently, you can't do this life alone.  Community, I think, is how God lives in this world.  I think we see something of the light and love of God through each other.  Community is spiritual.