This isn’t the first time I’m talking about a waiting room experience. I doubt it will be the last but my opportunities to experience new things and people diminish significantly after next Friday. So my sources of content will be limited – thank goodness.
But this one is worth posting about.
I watched as the door to the treatment suite opened and the person who had just been treated exited. She was in her twenties and as soon as she came through the door her mother called out her name. I knew immediately that she is special. She is what I would guess is moderately retarded. I don’t know enough about this to speak in the “correct” terms, so I hope the way I describe this doesn’t insult or hurt anyone reading.
This immediately struck me. All I could think – as I watched the mother greet her “just treated” daughter – I felt foolish for any of the “problems” that I view as devastating.
My mother has expressed to me how difficult it is to watch your child go through something like this. I can’t imagine the feeling of a mother who is already dealing with the care of a special needs young adult who will most likely be with her for the rest of her life.
I have the faculties to understand my situation, my health status, risk and what I need to do to be as healthy as possible for the rest of my life. I can make that happen. Someone else has to do that for this young woman. I can’t imagine enduring the year I’ve endured without being able to grasp the whats and the whys.
The treatment techs are the best! They are so good with her. They ease her trip back into the treatment suite in the most amazing ways. It was a comfort to me so I’m sure that their actions are a comfort to her mother. These techs are as amazing as the infusion nurses. It’s such a calling for these angels. And that’s exactly what they are. They really have your life in their hands and they are graceful and supportive about it.
The world is small. I engage in a conversation with this mom yesterday while her daughter was in the treatment suite and found that we went to the same church for a while in the 90s. I introduced myself and learned her name. We both were familiar to each other. We knew lots of the same people and recalled some common memories.
I will be praying for her. Praying for her mother and father. And I will be praying to continuously have my perspective adjusted by these experiences whether they’re in a waiting room or not.