Today was treatment day for Jilda, so we headed out to the clinic after breakfast. Once there, the nurses started hooking her up, so I headed over to the cafeteria.
I bought a tall cup of coffee, flipped open my laptop, jammed headphones knuckle deep in my ears, clicked on my Focus mp3, and started working.
I've found a corner near the back close to a power outlet that's become my office away from my office. I made calls, followed up on correspondance, and wrote my weekly column.
After I finished the column, I edited a story that's due Friday, and I even found time to work on my novel.
I've gotten to the point that people, sounds, and activity around me fade to edge of my perception. I know there is something there, but it doesn't gen in my space. I'm in the zone there.
Today just after noon, I snapped my laptop closed, coiled up my earphones, and headed back to the treatment room.
When I went in, Jilda was sitting next to an elderly lady who is obviously very ill. They were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.
The woman was telling Jilda about her escapades when she was younger. They hushed down some as I approached. Girl-talk Jilda said conspiratorially. It made me smile.
I know what my wife is going through is no picnic, but in looking at the bigger picture, it could be much worse.
It's almost as if the Good Lord has put her in that place to help raise the spirits of people whose burdens are much harder to bear.
She is one of those rare people who can talk to the Pope, or to a pauper, and make them both feel as though they are the most important person on earth.
My wife frets sometimes because she feels she's putting my out by having to accompany her to the clinic. But in the scheme of things, working from a remote office is not a gnat in my tea.
I bought a tall cup of coffee, flipped open my laptop, jammed headphones knuckle deep in my ears, clicked on my Focus mp3, and started working.
I've found a corner near the back close to a power outlet that's become my office away from my office. I made calls, followed up on correspondance, and wrote my weekly column.
After I finished the column, I edited a story that's due Friday, and I even found time to work on my novel.
I've gotten to the point that people, sounds, and activity around me fade to edge of my perception. I know there is something there, but it doesn't gen in my space. I'm in the zone there.
Today just after noon, I snapped my laptop closed, coiled up my earphones, and headed back to the treatment room.
When I went in, Jilda was sitting next to an elderly lady who is obviously very ill. They were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.
The woman was telling Jilda about her escapades when she was younger. They hushed down some as I approached. Girl-talk Jilda said conspiratorially. It made me smile.
I know what my wife is going through is no picnic, but in looking at the bigger picture, it could be much worse.
It's almost as if the Good Lord has put her in that place to help raise the spirits of people whose burdens are much harder to bear.
She is one of those rare people who can talk to the Pope, or to a pauper, and make them both feel as though they are the most important person on earth.
My wife frets sometimes because she feels she's putting my out by having to accompany her to the clinic. But in the scheme of things, working from a remote office is not a gnat in my tea.
Lovely post, Rick. I so much admire the way in which both you and Jilda cope with her treatments. You are blessed in each other's love.
ReplyDeleteI like the gnat in my tea - very cool.
Great post. Love the laughter. It always makes things easier. Hope Jilda's doing well. My son is in remission after his bone marrow transplant. Yippee!!
ReplyDeleteMy prayers are with Jilda and you!
ReplyDeleteMy prayers are with you and Jilda Rick!
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry your wife is having to suffer through treatments, Rick, but it seems she is making the best of a bad situation. You are a good soul and what a great way to show your love for her-just by "being there".
ReplyDeleteI hope you have a great day- Diana
Rick,
ReplyDeleteIt sounds like both you and Jilda are making lemonade whenever and wherever you can.
Good for you BOTH.
Sending good prayers and thoughts Jilda's way.
Lovely post. Laughter is healthy and Jilda had a nice dose of it. (And I know what you mean about the cafeteria. I find they are great places to write...) Hugs to you and Jilda.
ReplyDeleteJilda sounds delightful - just the person to sit by when you're "hooked up" for a couple of hours. I went with my dad to his chemo appointment when my mom wasn't able to go and we were lucky enough to be in a room with the most upbeat, encouraging woman. It was early on for my dad, and it was just what he needed. I hope he doesn't have to take too many more though. It's really wearing him out. Best thoughts and prayers to you and Jilda - your attitudes could cheer anyone up!
ReplyDeleteThanks all for your prayers and kind words.
ReplyDeleteR
You're so supportive and Jilda is so lucky to have you..but I'm sure she knows that and I'm sure you feel the same about her. I keep you both in my prayers. She's a blessing to those in the chairs with her. I hope this year brings much happiness and good health to you both.
ReplyDelete