I don’t open up much to my patients. Three, to be exact, in my eight years of nursing, that I’ve shared with personally, who I’ve opened up to show my own humanity. Today, I had the honor to meet that third patient. She is kind. She is smart. She is engaging. She is helpful. She is gracious. She’s also a Nationals Fan. So, even on the night the Cards were swept out of our Series run, I sat by her bed talking about Frank Robinson and exclaiming at stellar pitches or close calls.
We bonded over Little Toot, our favorite children’s book, and our mutual experiences (and love!) of working in libraries. We swapped stories of meeting famous broadway stars and New York Times writers. We spoke of beauty. We spoke of awe-inspiring experiences. We shared our lives with each other. We shared our humanity with each other.
On my drive home, I wept for this woman. I wept for the connection we made, the humanity we shared. I wept over her decision to buy plane tickets to Barcelona instead of buying chemo treatment. I wept tears of gratitude for her.
As I crawled into bed with an episode of Downton Abby, I came across a scene in which Mrs Crawley exclaims at Mary’s new nursing skills while taking care of Matthew. Mary responds with a general, oh, he’s family, it’s nothing. And Mrs. Crawley responds with, “It’s the opposite of nothing.”
And here I am, weeping again. Because human connection is exactly that, the opposite of nothing, it is everything. It is worth giving up everything. It is paramount to our existence. It is, in fact, the only way towards survival.
Joy and heartbreak come together as railroad tracks, running along side each other, while our lives travel on top towards our destination.
Petrichor 