Heroes

It's Tuesday evening, and I find myself in my new home away from - The Residence Inn, in Warrenville, IL.  I can see the Northwestern Chicago Proton Center from my window.  Unfortunately, it is on the other side of the I-88 East/West Tollway.

From the window, I can see an asphalt walking path, with split-rail fence, leading up Mill St. and over the Tollway.  I was excited to think that I could walk to the Proton Center, which is the first building that you would come to once you've crossed the Mill St. bridge.  I had to check it out. 

As I walked over for a closer look, I found an area with picnic tables, nicely groomed grass, and landscaping on either side of the path.  Next thing I knew, I was on the path, making my way uphill to the bridge.  That's when things began to change.

The nicely groomed path of just 100 feet back began to slowly morph into cracked asphalt with four foot tall weeds growing up through the path.  It got to the point that I couldn't even get through.  They should have put up a sign that read, "Funding stops here."  

I thought about going over to Harbor Freight Tools and buying a machete, but good sense and a lack of ambition put a stop to that.  It's only 7/10 of a mile if I drive.  There's plenty of places to walk if I feel energetic.

Yesterday, I got a phone call from a friend.  They live in the Chicago area, and have a summer home in Minocqua, WI - where I live.  We usually only see them during the summer, so it was a pleasant surprise to hear from them.  

We parted company in the Fall with some unaddressed tension and strain on the friendship.  Not to make excuses, but I wasn't at my best, and chose to avoid it rather than address it.  It has been allowed to fester for months now, and that wasn't fair to anyone.

I've spoken of friendships in this blog and the importance of investing time, life, and love into them.  These friends of ours have done that and more.  

With any relationship, there will always be misunderstandings.  We can all look at the same situation and see it from two completely different points of view.  It doesn't mean that one is wrong and one is right, it simply means that it has effected us in a different way than the other.  In this situation, our friends had no idea that I was harboring feelings of resentment.  How could they if I never brought it to their attention?

We met on the Riverwalk in Geneva, IL.  It was a beautiful day to enjoy the outdoors.  We cleared the air, and came away with a better understanding of each other, a resolution of the issue, and a promise to never let it happen again.  

These moments are important in life.  Don't make them wait.

Today was an unusual day at the Proton Center, to say the very least.  When I arrived, I found the waiting area with quite a few more patients that usual.  Ashley came out to tell us that there would be a delay of about twenty minutes.

This week I had noticed two new patients, who were both in wheel chairs.  Remember, newbees get the early shift, so they were scheduled at 7:00 A.M.  It stands to reason that it would be a little more difficult to help a patient onto the table that couldn't do it on their own.  The delay was understandable, and honestly, we really don't have any pressing commitments.

Normally, we patients come in, say "good morning" to each other, and settle into checking emails, or the latest news headlines on our smart phones.  There typically isn't enough time to start a conversation, since the process flows pretty quickly.

The delay was the excuse we all needed to open up a little bit, introduce ourselves, and start a conversation.  We shared our stories, and saw each other, not just as another cancer patient, but as a person with goals and plans for the future.  We are all at different stages in the process.  Some are near the end, and some are just beginning.  We shared the wisdom that we have gained through our own treatment, comforted the newbees, and gained strength from those that have been around the block.  

The twenty minute delay turned out to be over an hour.  None of us minded.  

I was called back to the treatment room, as the techs did their best to make up for every lost minute.  They pushed me into the changing room with a quick, "Wait here."  "Wait here?  I don't get changed.  Do I look like a newbee to you?" I thought to myself.  As long as I wear a tee shirt, I'm good to go.

That's when things went south.  

The alarm sounded, and the blue light above treatment #4 started flashing.  Doctors and nurses came running from all directions, carrying equipment, and pushing a crash cart.  All I know is that the patient in #4 was in trouble.  I'm sure that they practice for these situations, since everyone knew exactly what to do.  They stabilized him.  He would be okay.

We identify ourselves as cancer patients.  To some it is a badge of courage, while others see it as a burden to carry until the burden is removed.  For the patient in #4, it is one of many problems that he has piled on top of each other.  

He is one of the newbees.  I am going to make an effort to talk to him, get to know him, and let him know that we are all on his team.  That, I can do. 

We search for purpose in our lives.  We set lofty goals when we are young that we often laugh at as we grow older.  Sometimes we reach them, and other times we don't.

What if our entire purpose in life was just to simply give hope to a person that in that one moment had lost it?  Would you be okay with that?  Heroes are defined by a single moment.  Could you be that kind of hero?