Wednesday, March 13th was a full day, with two scheduled appointments in Boston. I got there a little bit early and hurried to grab a bite at Whole Foods. While walking the few blocks from MGH, I had to skirt a homeless couple splayed out on the sidewalk. A cane lay on the ground next to them and they were both obviously intoxicated. As I passed, the man began shaking the woman by her shoulders while shouting ‘listen to me you c—‘: hardly an affectionate way to address one’s partner. The nature of their interaction was unclear but concerning, particularly as I glanced over my shoulder and it became obvious the woman was bleeding from several cuts on her face. I turned to a gentleman striding next to me and said ‘she’s bleeding….we really ought to do something.’ ‘Yes, it is terrible, he replied’, and kept on walking.
I’m ashamed that I even hesitated. One of my personal mottoes is that complacency equals complicity, so there was nothing to do but go back.
The first word that came out of my mouth surprised me, as I am not given to endearments. “Hon, do you want to go the hospital? You’re bleeding.’ The woman’s ‘friend’ turned to me and explained that they had just come from the doctor’s office and that she had refused treatment. I looked to the woman for confirmation and she smiled wanly and nodded. As I backed away, the man turned to me and said ‘Hey thanks, we really appreciate it.’—it, of course, being the simple fact that I interacted with these two hapless people that everyone else was stepping around. I again urged them to get medical help and to try to keep the lacerations clean.
After lunch I had an appointed with my beloved thoracic social worker Mary Susan Convery (who has kindly agreed to see me on occasion even though she has been promoted to an administrative position). Our relationship goes back almost five years now, and her friendship and counsel mean the world to me.
After a rejuvenating hour, I had another spell of time before a meeting of the MGH Cancer Center’s Patient & Family Advisory Counsel at 5 pm. My membership in this committee is something I am proud of, as it required nomination, application, and an interview before I was voted in. And what a interesting group it is—a combination of cancer patients, family members and hospital staff. We meet every three weeks and are given the chance to provide input into any number of issues relating to patient care. It is an incredible opportunity to put our own experiences to good use, and I am excited to be a part of this.
Anyway, on the way there I ran into a fellow member, Sarah, who was also early due to an earlier appointment. We had a grand old time chatting for an hour or so before the meeting. Having only spoken briefly before, soon it was as if we were old friends.
PFAC wrapped up around 8 pm and by that point I was exhausted. However, it was a peaceful ride home as I was accompanied by the sweetest little sliver of a crescent moon; magical.
life and breath: outliving lung cancer 
SUCH A beautiful recap of a day! loved reading every word. and loved how the day evolved too.
Thanks Gwen—it did seem to be a day with chapters.
Linnea
hey Linnea, I love your last line — being accompanied by the sweetest little sliver of a crescent moon. What a beautiful and calming image.
Anjali, it was in fact so very beautiful and calming both. I love this universe…
Linnea
I love how you find beauty everywhere. take care girl. i’ll be in touch. 🙂
Huh. Always finding out something new and interesting that you’re involved with. It’s good to know someone like you is on an advisory group like that. Not to mention stopping and talking to those folks on the sidewalk, something I would really have hesitated to do. Okay. Something I probably would have been too afraid to do. I will keep your example in mind from now on and not be so weeny! xo xo xo
Cristina, as I acknowledged, I hesitated. My WBC counts were still low, I wasn’t even sure I should be out in public without a mask, and I certainly had no idea what the response would be. Frankly, it was just an oddly human interaction. What I took initially to be abuse was most likely inarticulately expressed caring; just a reminder that we can never presume to understand what is happening in any particular situation.
xoLinnea
Linnea, as always I am inspired by your blog post. I love that you are on the Advisory Board; it has such an important mission. You brought back memories of both Mary Susan, who is such a wonderful person, as well as with your stopping to help the people on the street. Several days after his second and final surgery in March of 2008, which was done at MGH, Silas had me take him out and about; he was in a wheelchair, and spotted a man sitting on bench. “Mom, give him some of my money,” Silas told me. I let him know that I didn’t think this man needed money, as I really didn’t think he “looked” like he did. But I did as Silas asked. The man was indeed down on his luck, and stopped to talk to Sy for a few minutes, thanking him. “It’s okay man, I’ve been down a few times myself,” said my so brave 29 year old son… such an important lesson in life, to remember to slow down enough to help others without judgment. love love love to you…and thank you
Lorraine, I remember you telling me this story about Silas. Such grace and compassion and wisdom for a young person. He would be so proud of all the good work you carry on in his name…
love, Linnea
I love how your eyes are always so wide open to the world. Keep on keepin’ on! BTW, congrats on Peter’s acceptance to PEA. In my youth I dated a couple of guys who’d gone there… I chuckle now, thinking of the “east coast world” I formed in my mind from those experiences. Funny the stories we invent.
Hugs, Jazz
Jazz, eyes wide open (and sometimes a gaping mind as well) is my m.o.
Having grown up in Colorado, I had a vision of the east coast as well. Some of it turned out to be true: the preponderance of nicknames like skip and coco, cocktail hours and preppiness that was a birthright rather than a fashion statement. I’ve been settled here long enough now that it feels like home, but some of my heart will always be in the wide open spaces of the west (congrats duly passed on to Mr. Pete–thanks!).
Linnea
The ways you thrill and inspire me are endless. I so admire that you took the time and compassion to reach out to this couple, something I would like to think I would have done but would have been too frightened to do. And the time and energy you put into ensuring that you are doing all you can to help others through the medical maze is testament to your character. On top of it all, you can articulate it eloquently — full of hope, without judgment. You are quite something, Linnea. Thank you. .
Aw thanks. I do view each day as an adventure, no matter how pedestrian the locale. There are moments of beauty, pathos and opportunity everywhere, and we can often choose the degree to which we engage in each.
Linnea
This sounds like a full and satisfying day. May you have many many more, my friend! xo
Thank you Jessica! To you the same!
Linnea
I am my brothers keeper. Happy Easter to you Linnea.
Thank you Melanie. And to you as well.
Linnea
Dear Linnea I am just back from 10 days in wonderful Guatemala and have had quite a few posts to catch up on. In spite of everything, I think its a good sign when you post regularly and I worry about you when you go for a while without posting. Congratulations to Peter on his acceptance to his new school. Feel well. Beryl
Beryl, what a pair we are—-I worry when I don’t see a comment from you for a spell 🙂 Always wonderful to hear that you have been off on an a true adventure; I am glad you describe your trip to Guatemala as lovely! And thank you on Peter’s behalf (heck, and on his mother’s behalf as well!).
xoLinnea