Short one today, I promise!
This morning, I woke up from another slightly sad dream and what I ended up missing the most about Anderson the whole day was just the comfort of being held. I was also a little bit tired today, but I made it through the 8 hours of new grad class. We also got breakfast and lunch provided and our instructor is pretty darn awesome. I had planned on visiting CBC's care groups tonight since it's only 2 miles away from the hospital. So I sat at Starbucks and drank, ate, checked email and waited the two hours until care groups started. While I was gchatting, I realized that I really missed being held. I didn't think too much of it... those kinds of things I just have to let go and accept that it's not gonna happen. And the funny thing is... that I went to care groups and a very little man walked right up to me, put his arms around me and laid his head on my shoulder. Just for a moment. It was very quick and very small, but God answered the cry of my heart. The little man hugged me and for maybe 15 seconds, I was held. The little one-year-old man also stole the pretzels out of my purse a few times too but shoot... he can have the pretzels... that hug was more than enough. I was reflecting on that little blessing and just being so, so thankful for all the little ways that God takes care of me.
Meeting new people... here and there it comes out that I'm widowed. It doesn't come up a lot, but it does come up. One of the things that I hear a lot is "I'm sorry for your loss". I know that people say it because it's true, but mostly because... they don't know what to say. I'm thankful that others try to empathize with how they think I must be feeling. It says a lot about their hearts and their desire to care. Maybe the little problem that I have with that statement is that... it seems to say that others would like to share in my sadness... whereas, I would much rather that they share in my joy. Yes, the loss of my husband to brain cancer is profound and tragic, but what I've gained after the loss (which is only a temporary loss at that) is infinitely more valuable. I don't know how people perceive me when I tell them with a smile that I'm doing really, really well. Do they think I'm putting on a front? I have no idea. I would much rather that people share in my joy, but do they see it? I don't know either.
I actually struggle a lot with finding the words to say to comfort someone. It's so difficult to convey my heartfelt desire to support, comfort and love someone going through a hard time, with either a recent loss or one that is coming very soon in the future.... both of which I've been confronted with in the past few days. I don't know what I'm doing... I just hope they felt cared for... just for a little bit through my short interactions with them. And that's also what I hope to do for my patients when I start on the floor this weekend. All I want to do is to make things a little bit better for the short time that I have with them. If what I can do is just provide the best nursing care that I can, then that's what I'll do. If I have the chance to talk to them, I would like to do that too. If what I can offer is a smile, that's what I hope to offer them too. I wanna be an awesome nurse... one who truly cares and loves the people who come in and out of my life, however briefly. K. I'm tired. Night!