So sorry for you and your dad. I recently spent a lot of time at the hospital with my husband, and it was the worst time of my life. He is better now. But in our age, it is the beginning of the end. I'm totally fine with it, but waiting and being at the hospital is ... Patience, bravery, kindness, what else can help... I drank a lot of black coffee without sugar and milk and, funny, I thought I had to write an essay about my favorite poet for Substack.
I am sorry for your father’s cancer. Interesting to read your perspective of the waiting room… I was very touched. I was an Operating Room nurse for nearly 40 year and I never thought of it quite that way. Perhaps my wish was that Hope was in the waiting room too. Stay strong.
The K-man has been on my mind lately. He never seems to go away. He sits there, in a chair in the corner of my brain, beside Bonhoeffer, waiting to be called to the front of the line for another consultation with my soul.
I used to teach medical admin students years ago. One writing assignment I gave them was to redesign a waiting room to help alleviate patient anxiety and promote positivity without being in your face because, as we all know, that kind of thing is anxiety-provoking. I said they had no-limit funds (but within reason!!) and to describe their theme, process, etc. While it was geared for me to check their general writing skills, their designs' depth of detail and sheer joyful imaginations were remarkable. And most wouldn’t be that expensive to do in the end. Every time I walk into a beige, nondescript waiting room, I think of those wonderful ideas and how much better off patients would be while they wait. A couple of the papers even redesigned chemo areas. It was a matter of not being a hospital or a clinic while being just that. And not a television in sight—that one surprised me.
Tara, this is a wonderful story. There are the physical waiting rooms and the ones we create in our minds. It’s when the two come together that we perhaps create a space for hope.
So sorry for you and your dad. I recently spent a lot of time at the hospital with my husband, and it was the worst time of my life. He is better now. But in our age, it is the beginning of the end. I'm totally fine with it, but waiting and being at the hospital is ... Patience, bravery, kindness, what else can help... I drank a lot of black coffee without sugar and milk and, funny, I thought I had to write an essay about my favorite poet for Substack.
I’m glad your husband is doing better. It’s good to have your words of support.
Thank you, Richard. And best to you.
Sending healing vibes and hopes of a reprieve from the in-between - to goodness.
I need them and take them with open arms.
Sorry about your dad's cancer, will pray for him and you.
Kathleen, we need all the support we can get. I never turn down prayers. I share all these messages of support with my dad.
I'm happy to hear that Richard. I hope it lifts his spirit.❤️
I am sorry for your father’s cancer. Interesting to read your perspective of the waiting room… I was very touched. I was an Operating Room nurse for nearly 40 year and I never thought of it quite that way. Perhaps my wish was that Hope was in the waiting room too. Stay strong.
Thank you, Ann for checking in and sharing.
Funny that we both wrote about Kierkegaard this week.
I'm sorry for your father's cancer. Prayers to you both as you try this new treatment.
The K-man has been on my mind lately. He never seems to go away. He sits there, in a chair in the corner of my brain, beside Bonhoeffer, waiting to be called to the front of the line for another consultation with my soul.
At least you have good spiritual therapists!
I used to teach medical admin students years ago. One writing assignment I gave them was to redesign a waiting room to help alleviate patient anxiety and promote positivity without being in your face because, as we all know, that kind of thing is anxiety-provoking. I said they had no-limit funds (but within reason!!) and to describe their theme, process, etc. While it was geared for me to check their general writing skills, their designs' depth of detail and sheer joyful imaginations were remarkable. And most wouldn’t be that expensive to do in the end. Every time I walk into a beige, nondescript waiting room, I think of those wonderful ideas and how much better off patients would be while they wait. A couple of the papers even redesigned chemo areas. It was a matter of not being a hospital or a clinic while being just that. And not a television in sight—that one surprised me.
Tara, this is a wonderful story. There are the physical waiting rooms and the ones we create in our minds. It’s when the two come together that we perhaps create a space for hope.