Sharing a Little Soup

Sharing a little Soup



In a previous post, I shared that I had a cancer surgery in December of 2007. (It was actually 2006 so please consider this a correction and apology). I have another story to share from that experience.

When I was checking in for my surgery, losing my street clothes in favour of one of those fashionable hospital gowns and getting my intravenous line inserted I shared a room with a woman who was getting ready for her surgery as well.

It was then that I realized the gift I have been given. Some people are gifted with great intelligence or beauty, some have the ability to run marathons or lift great weights but my gift is unique: I am seldom nervous before surgery. As gifts go, this is a pretty good one to have if you have to live a life that will require a few surgeries. In truth it is probably just some form of resignation (like the deer in headlights) but not everyone has this gift. The lady in the room with me was seized by dread. We did not have much time together but we talked, I comforted her as much as possible and promised to see her on the other side (of the surgery of course).

One of the first bedridden nights after my surgery, unable to sleep, I started to read a book given to me by my friend Colleen. It was Chicken Soup for the Christmas Soul. (When giving a book to a friend who will have surgery or who is in the hospital this sort of book with short stories is ideal because they are easy to read and not too taxing. Just adjust the kind of book to their particular tastes.) No matter how hoaky you may consider that kind of literature to be, I loved it at that moment. Little inspirational stories made me laugh and cry and touched me. It also got my mind off my agonies for a few minutes at a time. That – is a real gift.

As I related in my previous story, I was required to walk the hallways after my surgery. With the morphine drip in my spine and a hole in my body, I was pretty self involved. When I was finally able lift my head and notice my surroundings again, I noticed which room she was in. I could not help but notice that she was having a very difficult time.

I left her alone at first but on one of my circuits around, I entered her room to say hi. She told me she had been unable to sleep and unable to eat (no one on that floor with these types of surgery was eating) and she expressed a real loss of hope.

After a couple minutes of conversation, I mentioned that I wanted to share the book with her. She was certain that she would not be able to read. I insisted that I had finished it and if she could not read it then, she could take it home because I had no further need of it. She was asleep as I took my next trip around and I quietly dropped it off along with a small vase of flowers from my collection.

Here is the point of my story. The very next morning, I was still in bed when I had a visitor. It was the lady that I have been referring to returning the book. She told me that she had been up all night reading it. She said that she had believed that she would never be able to consider reading in the state she was in but because it was there she opened it and never put it down. The change in her was remarkable. She was up, walking, talking, and so much more firmly alive.

So what caused the change? Was it that she was distracted from her self focus for a short time, was it that someone had cared a little or was it that she had just passed the valley and into the light again. Who knows? I just love the fact that I know it happened and that I was there to see it. In truth, I do not even remember her name and do not think that I would recognize her if I saw her again. We shared a dark journey and we got through to the other side and for that I am truly grateful and a bit inspired by the idea that human contact makes a difference.