Sheep in Wolf's Clothing (aka Never Judge a Book By It's Cover)

Confession: Sometimes, I can be such an elitist snob! See, I have this thing about "mass thinking." It turns me off. I'm not fashionable or hip. I just know what I like and that's that. Pop radio lost its luster for me decades ago. And it's rare that I would run to the theaters to check out a blockbuster. And, based on what I'd heard, read and seen about it, Eat, Pray, Love had suffered snotty my judgment, thereby being relegated to the "Seemingly Spiritual-But-Actually Self-indulgent-Psychic dump-Oprah Book Club-Feel Good Lite-Chick-Lit" category. No, mam! I wasn't going to succumb to mass female hysteria surrounding this New York Times best-seller. I dismissed it.

Years after the celebrity of the book subsided, it somehow, found its way to my bookshelf. After my friend, Lisa, found out was sick, she gifted me with said book. Her note said "I hope it brings you as much joy as it did me." I thanked her kindly and promptly shelved it -- there to gather dust for a few months. I forgot about it.

Little did I know that this unfairly pre-judged book, I had taken for granted was going to play a major role in my life last year. Somehow, as I approached the end of my chemotherapy treatment, a heavy weight of sadness and loneliness had gripped me. I wrestled with feelings of helplessness, desperation, and hopelessness and all sorts of resources through different cancer resource organizations. I joined chat boards, read literature, and talked to some folks about it. Nothing helped. Nothing, until the eve of my last chemo. I was sleepless and sad. I wanted someone to talk to, but it was too late in the evening. After tossing and turning in bed and exhausting all the possibilities on cable TV, I started perusing my bookshelf for anything that would jump out at me. Anything! And there she was, lying face at eye level in my bookshelf. "Pasta, prayer beads, and flower petals. Hmmmm.." So, I started reading. What did I have to lose? And that was the night, Elizabeth Gilbert's book rescued me from my seemingly endless wheel of loneliness. Eat, Pray, Love had kept kept me company for the next few weeks, giving me reason to read, feel, eat, pray, love and move on. Liz Gilbert was like the best friend I needed at the time. What a god-send!

But, what could a sucessful 30-year-old author, going through a divorce and travelling to find the divine (courtesy of a $200,000 advance she got from her publisher to write Eat, Pray, Love) have anything to say to me? We couldn't be any more differently situated! I'd sorted through my divorce years ago. I've never felt the absence of the divine in my life, no matter what I'd gone through. And I certainly did not have the $200,000, to spend on a year travelling to exotic places to "find the balance between pleasure and the divine." Why then was I so enamoured of this woman and her journey to find herself through food in Italy, the divine in India, and love in Bali?

The answer was embarassingly simple. She spoke my language and she spoke to my heart. The pain and loneliness that I couldn't articulate properly to anyone else was salved by her book. It didn't matter much that our individual situations couldn't be any further apart. At a certain juncture, I think that struggle is universal -- whatever form it takes. And, better yet, redemption and triumph are equally as universal. And as I struggled through my own crisis, Elizabeth Gilbert was a comforting "friend" to have. What an invaluable treasure her book was to me! (And to think, I had dismissed her and her book based on my own literary prejudices.) Eat, Pray, Love gave me comfort, laughter, tears, wisdom and kinship. For as long as I read the book, I did not feel so alone, even though the "conversation" was only one way. That was exactly what I needed. Yes. No I felt that no one could understand my struggle then. BUT, I understood hers. And that was what I needed!

Who knew, eh? Something (and someone) I had dismissed because of my snobby prejudices ended up soothing my soul and saving my sanity. Humble pie eaten in generous proportions, thank you very much!

And so, to Ms. Elizabeth Gilbert, my gratitude for being a brilliant, inspiring, and encouraging "friend" albeit only for a few weeks. Thank you for Eat(ing), Pray(ing) and Love(ing) and nurturing my soul.

THE Nurse

By the time I was wheeled into the hospital's TCCU (Transitional Cardiac Care Unit) that night, my body was "road weary", my mind was in shock, and my soul was parched. The two weeks leading to this moment had been peppered with multitudes of tests, doctors, needles, drugs, and even a biopsy, and then finished off with what I thought to be my death sentence. I felt like an empty, used paper cup.

Thankfully, my bed was greeted by a warm, strong voice, accompanied by a big smile. "I'm 'J,' your nurse; and I'm going to be taking care of you tonight. You're here because you need to be watched closely. Those clots can be dangerous. So we have to get rid of them as quickly as possible!" Her presence was assuring. She radiated care and comfort. This might sound trite, but is absolutely true. As soon as J crossed my plane of consciousness, I knew that the crazy ride was over -- for that moment. It was time to stop and recuperate sanity. I started to see the light at the end of the seemingly never-ending gray tunnel. I felt the ground beneath me. I could feel my heart beat again. Exhale......

J was compassionate without being overbearing; professional without being distant; and, most importantly, present. Her presence shored up my then-weak foundation. She was diligent, informative, assuring, and patient -- the quintessential care-giver. She took care of me for only two 8 hour shifts of the 2.5 days I was in the hospital, but the impact she made was quite significant. Particularly, I am really grateful for one short piece of advice she gave me. It became one of the helpful tools I used consistently during my bout with cancer.

One of the hardest things I had to do after I found out about the cancer was to relay this to my children. I was at a loss. What a daunting and heart-breaking prospect! It weighed heavier in my mind more than the cancer did. How do you tell your children that you are gravely ill? What an awful, awful thing to have to do! I wished more than anything that I could spare them, keep the cancer away from them. They're two young adults, with their whole lives in front of them. Cancer need not get in the way. I wondered if there was a way around this. There wasn't, of course! And I needed to tell them immediately. I was in a panic.

J, listened to my dilemma intently. Then, she offered the most perfectly brilliant solution: "Set the tone. Set the tone and they will follow." Wow! It was so simple and obvious -- and so true! How empowering were those 4 little words! Set the tone. Of course! How they would take the news would be up to me, largely. They're my kids and they will negotiate this difficulty based on the tone I set. I had to take the reins and not fall apart. If I needed to be surrounded by positivity and strength, I needed to demonstrate that. It had to start from me. What a great gift to have gotten from the Nurse! And for that I will eternally be grateful.

Nurses, I think are the unsung heroes of the business of curing folks. Their role is so substantial, yet (it seems to me) mostly unsung. If the doctors cure, then the nurses care. But that's even a gross oversimplification. Yes, doctors can come up with the course of treatment. But who is there with the patient, making sure that the course is executed properly? In my vast experience with health care professionals this past year, I can say with great conviction that without the nurses like J, I wouldn't have been able to do it. They were there to clarify, care, listen, and carry out the course of my treatment and provide the grounding and sanity needed to "stay the course."

So, J really is the the perfect example of all the nurses to whom I owe so much; from those who assisted me in the ERs to the other shift nurses at the hospital to the wonderful, wonderful oncology nurses who administered my chemo with so much care and compassion. Thanks for sanity and grounding over the past year.

I wouldn't be here without you.