There seems to be plenty of sadness floating around.
It is everywhere.
This past Monday just as I was starting my shift at the Huntsman Cancer Institute
I spotted a little girl sitting with her mother in the radiation waiting room.
She was wearing a bright pink hat. I usually don’t see children at Huntsman
as it is an adult cancer center. However, the children who are staying at
Primary Children’s Medical Center come to Huntsman for radiation.
When I saw this cute little girl waiting for her turn to go back for radiation
I almost lost it. I had to step into a private hall for a minute to catch my breath.
At that moment I knew I wasn’t ready to start volunteering in the children’s hospital.
Every single memory of Kristen’s treatment and hospital stays came
crashing in on me. I soon left the radiation area and began my
routine of visiting the patients who were staying in the hospital.
I love to visit the patients and their families. I feel I can relate to
them as I kind of know what they are going through. Once I was finished
with all of the inpatient visits I headed to the outpatient clinics.
I had just finished passing out snacks and drinks to the patients
in the infusion area when the “code blue” alarms sounded.
Once again I found myself feeling sick. Again, I slipped into a back hall
to catch my breath. I had just barely talked with the patient and now they are
fighting to take one more breath. I soon found myself looking out a large window.
It was cold and cloudy outside. I found myself asking “why?”
Why are these patients suffering, will this be their last Christmas?
Why did Kristen have to leave? Why wasn't she cured?
I hate cancer.
Why did the lives of so many children end so violently last Friday?
I hate violence.
I soon went back to the volunteer office to drop off my cart and get my purse.
Just as I was leaving I was asked if I had time to take a sack of hats to
the children’s hospital. I politely said I would be happy to go to the children’s hospital.
Again I felt that lump in my throat. How could I walk
into that hospital with all of these feeling so close to the surface?
I looked at the bags of brightly colored crochet hats and then I
knew I could do it. I thought, “Kristen would have loved to have
one of these soft hats.” I took the long walk from one hospital to the next.
I proudly dropped off the hats while thinking of Kristen and her cute little
bald head. As I drove home I had a feeling of peace come over me. I thought
how thankful I was that I live in the world of cancer. Who would I be without it?
I am thankful I can offer kindness and help
to those who are fighting for their lives. I returned home to find a message
from Joyce who lives in Ohio. Joyce and her daughter, Sarah, had just delivered
225 pillowcases to the Seldman Cancer Center and they delivered the pillowcases
in memory of Kristen! Both Joyce, Sarah and I spent time this past Monday
trying to brighten the lives of cancer patients all because of Kristen.
He light continues to shine.
She is our angel.
I am once again reminded of the true meaning of Christmas...
"On Christmas Day a child was born in a stable.
Though in a manger Thou draws breath,
Thou art greater than life and death.
God is not dead, nor doth he sleep,
the wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
with peace on earth, good will to men.
Because Christmas lives on,
a nation lives on, and we-each one of us-
may live on as well, in hope and peace forever!
Kristen lives on in the hearts of many.
Sarah packaging the pillowcases
Seldman Cancer Center where Sarah and her mom
delivered 225 pillowcases.