An acquaintance of mine was in a really serious car accident back in October. She amazingly didn't bleed much but lots of bones were munched. I kept updated on her condition through mutual acquaintances, feeling a little awkward about contacting her directly to ask.
Around Thanksgiving I finally decided to visit her in the hospital, unannounced. That was a little weird for me; I rarely show up at anyone's door without warning. But I remembered how long and lonely days in the hospital can get and the uplifting impact of an unexpected but familiar face appearing from behind the privacy curtain. And that memory was from only one week in the hospital; I couldn't imagine being confined for two months.
Laurie and I had a great chat that day. I stayed way longer than I anticipated, our visit ending only because her mom showed up and I didn't want to intrude. I took Laurie a book, the first in a fictional series about San Francisco in the 1970s. It had provided a crazy, highly entertaining escape when I had to spend a lot of time in bed so I hoped it might do the same for her. The book and the visit resulted in a fun email correspondence that started to morph our acquaintanceship into a friendship.
I visited Laurie again about a month and a half later, this time in a rehab facility where she was very busy learning how to walk again. I knew right where to go since I had visited the facility several times in the past with Rojo the Therapy Llama.
I again stayed much longer than planned; the conversation was so fun and I was just dumbfounded to see Laurie doing so well. And I wasn't the only one -- doctors, nurses, friends, family, and Laurie herself have been awestruck by the speed of her recovery. As I've gotten to know Laurie better, I would say I have now witnessed the healing power of commitment, determination, introspection, communication, intercessory prayer, and optimism.
Last weekend when I was in a social situation with my friend Laurie, she shared with a small group an observation she had made during her nearly 4 months in care facilities. She said that nearly all of her friends and family who visited her were clearly uncomfortable in the setting. They were distracted and ooked out by all the medical equipment and "sick people" and all the contraptions necessary to deal with what are normally very private matters. Laurie said there had been just two people who visited her who were at ease and were present, who were not distracted by the environment and instead were able to comfortably connect with her as a person and not as a patient. Her words and her eyes thanked and humbled me. She said the other person was a friend who had gone through chemo several times and thus was excessively familiar with hospitals.
I pondered Laurie's observation for a bit. Although they were intense and vivid, I only spent about two weeks total in the hospital for my back surgeries. I understand the feeling of helplessness and loneliness and frustration and imprisonment...but on a two-week scale, not a four-month scale. Instead, I think what has helped me feel rather blasé about the hospital setting is Rojo.
Because of that extraordinary llama and his equally amazing buddies, I go into rehab and care and dementia and senior facilities on a regular basis. Looking back, I do remember being a bit taken aback at first by some of the things and situations I saw, but I was thankfully distracted by making sure a fuzzy llama didn't bump into an IV pole or step on a feed line for an oxygen tank. Now I don't think twice about going into those facilities. Instead of seeing the equipment, I enjoy looking at the family photos. Instead of scrunching up my nose at the odors, I watch expectantly for the smiles and gazes of wonder as people interact with the fluffy and non-judgmental animal.
At the end of all of this pondering, I am left with gratitude for Rojo and what he has taught me about seeing the person through the distractions of their environment. And I am left with a renewed commitment to myself to visit acquaintances and friends who are rehabilitating. And I am left with a need to encourage anyone -- who, for whatever reason, has a measure of ease in hospitals -- to realize they have something very important to share simply by showing up. A new friend might just be depending on it.
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