Last Sunday my sermon shared an update on my health along with some lessons re-learned while in the hospital.
It is amazing how God can use even the craziest of mishaps to help remind us of what is most important.
You have permission to laugh.
I Understand
Expressing sympathy or empathy is not always easy. It demands we put ourselves aside to truly hear and feel the experience of another.
Many of us within the “caring fields” [doctors, nurses, counselors, social workers, pastors] are taught to reflect back the thoughts of those we are speaking with. We are encouraged to use phrases like, I understand, I hear what you are saying.
The goal is to express sympathy or empathy with the one you are speaking with.
Sympathy vs Empathy
The “sym” in sympathy means “together” or “at the same time.” We can be sympathetic when we have experienced the same, or similar pain that someone is walking through.
I am able to be sympathetic when I can recall how a similar experience in my own life made me feel. Without a shared experience it is impossible for me to be sympathetic.
Empathy is expressed when we can imagine how someone might feel without actually experiencing the emotions or situation that is causing them pain.
We move closer to empathy when we learn to “put ourselves in another person’s shoes.”
Sympathy is sharing. Empathy is understanding.
A problem arises when we try to be sympathetic when we really should be seeking to express empathy. Without shared experience, it is easy for our words [I understand, I hear what you are saying] to come across as hollow, empty, even demeaning.
A Return to HUP
Thursday night I ended up back in the hospital.
Over the past few years, I have learned how to watch my body pretty well. I know the signs when things are not right.
Thursday evening I was vomiting, my urine was dark, stool light, I was running a fever, had the chills, and I could have slept all the time. As if that was not enough the bloodwork from Wednesday was back and all my liver numbers were trending in the wrong direction. My bilirubin, AST, ALT, and Alkaline Phosphate were climbing. It was like the perfect storm of indicators that something was not right.
Arriving at the hospital I carefully outlined why I was there and tried to help the team of doctors understand my cause for concern.
- “I hear what you are saying, but your numbers are not bad enough for us to intervene yet.”
- “We understand your concern, but are not convinced that there is really anything going on, your bilirubin number is only slightly elevated.”
- “I hear you saying you think something is wrong, but we are not sure what to do right now.”
The longer this went on the more frustrated I became. The comment that reduced me to laughter…
- “Well, maybe your numbers will magically turn around”
Deja vu
I have been partnering with Hope Has Arrived for the past few months.
They are a great source of support and encouragement for people fighting cancer.
If you or a loved one is battling this disease I encourage you to check them out.
The stories of strength and hope are truly inspiring.
I recently wrote a guest post for their blog.
My Deja vu 5 year cancerversary
Look Lower
I lost a good portion of yesterday learning about Nightbirde.
If you are like me America’s Got Talent is not high on your “must-see tv” list.
In fact, I cannot remember the last time I watched even five minutes of an episode.
A friend sent me a link to a Blog and said, “Thought you might like this.”
They were wrong. I did not like the writing, I was captivated by it.
Some of the most honest, vulnerable words I have ever read.
Part of me longed for the gift to write in such a way.
I am sharing Nightbirde’s song and a few posts from her blog.
Take the time to understand the depth with which this woman speaks.
Nightbirde on America’s Got Talent
Some of her blog posts:
An Interview where she speaks of some of her life’s experiences that inform how she writes and sings:
Check Your Weight?
Catching Up
My last post was on May 24th.
There has been much I have wanted to share with you. The problem has been finding the energy and time to sit down and write.
I am still undergoing treatment. We are in what is referred to as “maintenance” mode.
My treatments now run on a three-week rotation. Avastin via my port on Monday, followed by two weeks of oral chemotherapy. I get one week off, and then we start all over again.
I do have scans coming up in a week or so. Dr. Saroha and I will look at those images and make a decision as to how long we will continue this round of “maintenance” chemotherapy. At some point, a body just needs a break. It feels like I am near that place in time.
Continuous “Improvement”
I worked for a fortune 500 company during my time in North Carolina. During my six years there the plant started a program to encourage continuous improvement.
The Kaizen program encouraged employees to identify ways to improve the work process, lower cost, increase productivity and profits. At one point each employee was strongly encouraged to submit four Kaizens a year.
If memory serves me correctly your active participation in the Kaizen program was reviewed when it came time to talk about raises.
Being Kaizened
After a year or so people were simply searching for ideas to submit to get “Kaizen credit.” There were a few great ideas, some good ideas, and a ton of ideas that while meeting Kaizen criteria added little to no value to the daily workflow.
In fact, some ideas made your job harder. They added additional steps to a process that were not necessary.
We started referring to that reality as being Kaizened.
Sticker Shock
My last trip to the oncologist brought all the horrors of the Kaizen program back to the front of my mind.
As the nurse ushers me to a room I am required to stand upon a scale. For five years chemotherapy has left me largely inactive so my weight is not trending in the direction I find encouraging. Each visit is a reminder that I am not the person I once was.
As I approached the scale this last visit I noticed something new about the scale. There was a bright blue sticker on it. Without paying it any attention I stepped right up. Standing on the scale it hit me, the sticker read “Please Remove Your Shoes.”
Half under my breath I muttered, please remove your shoes?
My nurse chuckled and said, yes we will get that next time.
Being the inquisitive type I had to ask, “so what is up with the sticker?”
She replied, they want to get the most accurate weight possible, so the powers that be are asking you to remove your shoes before you get weighed from now on.
Off to the Races
Well…my mind went off to the races.
I had to ask my nurse…
- The most accurate weight would be me stripped naked…how long till I am going to have to strip naked each time I come to visit my oncologist?
- A pair of shoes weighs two pounds at most…why not simply subtract two pounds from the weight you get when people stand on the scale with their shoes on…save people the trouble.
The thoughts just kept coming…
- Have you seen the people who come into this office? How easy do you think it is going to be for them to take off their shoes to get onto the scale? What happens if they fall over? These rooms are not very big. I am not very steady on my feet. Now you want me to take off, and put back on my shoes?
- How much longer do you think each appointment is going to take? I am one of these people, we do not move the fastest. Putting on my shoes is one of the hardest things I do each morning. It takes deliberate focus and energy. Sometimes I sit on the side of my bed for ten minutes getting ready to complete that task.
- Whose idea was this? Do they ever come into the rooms and interact with patients?
At this point, my nurse was laughing uncontrollably.
She continued to check my vitals as I looked at the sticker on the scale.
Watching her disinfect the blood pressure cuff I had to ask…
- Have they given you a procedure to disinfect the scale after people step on it without shoes on? I am not sure I want to be getting on that nasty old thing…who knows what kind of stuff people have growing on their feet.
Not My Advocate
I asked if she was going to mention any of my ideas.
My sense is that while she cares deeply for me she will not be pushing my concerns up any corporate ladder.
Sitting alone in the room, waiting for the doctor all I could think was here I am Kaizened again.
My Friend, Andy
Andy and his mom, Dottie
Andy was in junior high school, I was in seminary. We became friends. God used Andy to show me what it means to live life with enthusiasm.
Andy
Andy and I first met somewhere around 1991.
I was the youth pastor of Maplewood Baptist Church, in Malden MA.
Andy was a junior high student. Full of energy, a little irreverent, a master at pushing your buttons. Exactly the kind of kid I loved spending time with.
Youth Group
My earliest memories of Andy were the times I drove him home from youth meetings early. Youth group lasted for two hours. He was always welcome to attend and participate fully. When he became disruptive, I would drive him the few blocks home.
That may sound harsh, but Andy had a way of undoing a room in mere moments. His energy was mesmerizing, and once he was losing control, there was no getting him back.
Some of my favorite times each week were the moments we spent driving to his house. He educated me on what was most important in his world. To this day, I cannot see a commercial for professional wrestling without thinking about Andy. [Read more…]
Graduation
Today was a big day in our family.
Rayann graduated from West Chester University!
I had trouble understanding some of the trappings that went along with the ceremony.
There were three asterisks next to her name. I never had any such thing next to my name, so I assumed she was in some kind of trouble.
Turns out they put those next to the names of students who do exceedingly well.
She graduated Summa Cum Laude. [I am not even sure I spelled that correctly]
She had all kinds of fancy chords that went with her robe. Again, nothing I ever had to worry about.
Turns out that those who are more engaged with their coursework get to wear all kinds of chords.
When I graduated college my father was extremely impressed.
Impressed with Lamar Nisely, the guy who sat next to me.
Lamar was one of those asterisk-getting, chord-wearing kind of people.
He must have been called up on stage to receive seven or eight awards during our graduation ceremony.
I had to stand up in order for him to pass by each time he left to go up front, and then return to his seat.
My father’s comment, “That Lamar was surely impressive. He had you jumping all during graduation.”
I am so glad that Rayann got her scholarly mind from her mother.
The Picture Sparks a Memory
The picture of Rayann at graduation was taken by someone who was watching via the live stream in North Carolina. They captured the moment perfectly. Nancy, Joseph, and I were a ways away sitting atop the bleachers.
Looking at the picture it reminded me of April 12, 1981.
The space shuttle Columbia launched for the first time.
My father took his camera and laid on our living room floor with the lens focused on the television. He took picture after picture trying to get just the screen and none of the sides of the television.
We waited weeks for the film to return from processing…only to find that in each picture you could see a corner of the tv cabinet.
Incredible how far we have come since that day.
Picture taken of television in NC, image texted to family in Pa, posted on FB for the world to see in just under ten minutes.
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