I’m not complaining, just blogging….
Sometimes I think I’m reduced to an ever-changing, (and thank God “normal”) set of numbers around here…. Pulse, blood pressure, O2 count, temperature (oral), blood counts (white, red and yellow). (As though this set of quantifiable data defines me.)
Of course, for a medical team whose mission is to keep me alive and thriving, these truly are VITAL statistics; not knowing them (at 4 hour intervals) would seriously hinder timely intervention should I need it.
But (philosophizing on the inside) this isn’t what is truly Vital about me! Memories and dreams, critical thinkings and artsy-fartsy ramblings, playing with language and provoking students and loving my spouse: this is what defines me! This is important! This is vital!!!
Then I remember: it was only today that one of the doctors lit up as we discussed the classical guitar: his love for the instrument and the passion as he described a recent concert alerted me to something–I wasn’t a numerical vital sign.
The nurse today, not even assigned to me, who stopped in and visited several times, and helped me understand the physiological progression of events happening inside my bone marrow.
Truth is, everyone here–doctors, nurses, staff, therapists, and the dear ladies who volunteer to bring me the Eucharistic Bread–they have each and all acknowledged the vitality essential to this very human-thriving-gift-of-Creator of self and in the others around me. And I’m exceedingly grateful!
May I be regularly reminded to seek, know and love the truth of each person with whom I interact.
More importantly, may I allow them to penetrate me and leave a mark of blessing upon me. Amen.
