When Grace is hard...

She sat holding a wee tiny baby.  I was nearby waiting for my turn for labs to be drawn at the Cancer Center.  Her hair caught my eye.  It was dark and swept up in a pony tail.  But when the sun shone down, it showcased the blues, the violets, the reds, all carefully woven into her bejeweled- colored hair.

And then that cry.  That "fresh baked" sound that only a newborn can make.  He turned his head and I saw the cutest face.  The tiny lips pressed into that perfectly made "o" as he stretched and moved about in his mother's arms. He was perfection.

I was mesmerized.  I wanted to catch her eye, to smile and acknowledge how joy filled my heart at seeing this new babe.

And then.

I saw...

the cancer center pager.

In her lap.

My heart dropped.  I wanted even more to go to her.  To somehow offer something...

And then

I saw

her tears slip.  And my heart sank.

Oh no, nooo, no.

Then,

my knee started buzzing as my own pager went off.

And I had to go.

And she wouldn't look.  I couldn't intrude.  My own tears now brimming.

She just hugged that babe close and rocked and rocked.

I walked past, leaving my heart

shattered at her feet.

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She looked nervous.  She fidgeted with the edge of her coat.  Finally looking right at me she blurted out "its my first day at radiation. I'm so nervous.  I wonder what this will be like?  I have breast cancer and this is the last part of my treatment. Do you know what this is like?"

Wow, I think... this never happens to me.  I never get to meet other breast cancer patients and can talk to them in this way.  I'm excited to relate to her.

"Oh its my first day too I say... "  and then I forget and the next sentence escapes me before I have time to think... "well I did have a one time treatment to my brain last week, so technically its not my very first radiation experience, and I'm here for treatment to my spine."

And the woman shrinks back just like that.  She visibly shifts all her weight away from me and a pained look of horror and shock comes over her.

"Ohhh she said... it spread?  You have the "one" that spreads?"

Oh... yikes.  I know in an instant what it is... I am her worst nightmare.  I am the stage IV nobody wants to become.   I am her worst fear, worst case scenario, and I am sitting way too close to her today.

Fortunately my name gets called.  I leave her sitting with the remnants of shock still clinging to her face.

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He is a talker.  As soon as Dr. Panwalkar seats me at the infusion center,  the man leans over and tells me  Dr. Panwalkar is his doctor too.  "Doesn't he have a great laugh?"  "Yes, I agree, great laugh."

He proceeds to prattle on about his dogs, his grown kids, his apartment.  He has given away his car as he won't have need for it anymore.  The bus accommodates him well these days.

He quiets a moment and lowers his voice.   I turn to him, lean in, and give him all of me I can.

Keeping a steady eye on me he shares more...

He thinks he doesn't have long now.  His eyes go far away.  But he has made all of his arrangements.   As I nod, and smile and offer a word or two of encouragement, he keeps talking.  I let him go on and on- sensing the relief and peace he seems to feel.

He just needs someone to not shrink back from him.  To hear his story.  To validate his existence.

He is called back to infusion then and he shuffles off.  He is already bending the ear of the nurses aid bringing him back to his infusion room.

I let the peace I feel from his words, descend fully upon me and wait for my name to be called.

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All is grace...

Even when its hard grace some days.  When I've tossed and turned all night.  Wrapping in blankets to get warm, only to wake to sweat filled sheets and clammy skin as chemo-pause sinks its teeth into me.

When my wig feels confining and itchy.   And I feel every bit as vulnerable wearing it, as I do not wearing it.

When my skin sallows, my eyes hollow.

When all I see is a ghost of a girl I once knew, peering back at me in the mirror.

Grace still calls to me.  In the hard and the every day.

In the cry of a newborn.  In a mother's deep love for her baby that shines as bright as her bejeweled hair.

In the people who don't shrink back. Whose gaze is steady and reassuring.

When the rains prevails after the thunder cracks and booms all night.  Then a break in the cloud emerges.  And the sun streaks gloriously, tinting the dark clouds pink and purple.

Out of the darkness, light prevails.  And grace calls...