January 2008
I was standing in the kitchen the other evening, my daughter
was in the next room on the computer. She called out to me, "Listen to this
song, I love it!" It was Bob Marley singing a song titled Three Little
Birds ..."Cause every little thing gonna be alright. . " I listened to the
Reggae beat, and watched my daughters beaming face, "I knew this song when I
was little, didn't I?" I felt a surge of emotion flow over me, my eyes
began to sting, I smiled and nodded.
The first time my daughter heard that song she and I were
riding in a cab leaving USC Norris Cancer Hospital headed for the Union
Station. My best friend had just died after a long battle with bone
cancer, and while I had held myself together quite well inside the walls of
the hospital, somehow when we stepped inside the Taxi Cab, I fell apart.
I was crumpled against the cold car window, with my small daughter holding
my hand trying to comfort me. I had always maintained, that, I would
never place my daughter in a situation where she would feel the burden of
providing comfort to me, at least not while she was young.
I struggled to pull myself out of the overwhelming grief I
was feeling. The cab driver, who was most likely Jamaican tried to
comfort me, even though he had no idea why I was crying. His words
probably seemed to be falling on deaf ears as he watched me silently sob in
the rear view mirror. Then he began to sing that Bob Marley song, he
asked my daughter what my name was, and he put me in the song. I think
he made up some lines as we drove through the city, I began to cling to his
words like a life raft. I listened to his beautiful deep voice, I
sensed his compassion, his natural joy.
When we reached Union Station, I was composed. The
singing cab driver would not accept payment for the ride, he told me I could
pay him by being strong for my daughter. It was this act of kindness
from a total stranger, not my loss, that brought the tears to my eyes the
other night. I used to sing that song to my daughter in his honor.
There are so many varied ways to help others, and perhaps at the time, we
don't know the impact we are having on others' lives. Sometimes even
singing a simple song to a stranger can become something they never forget.
November 2007
"Wow, isn't that a draining job?" That is a question I hear
often, once I tell people that I am a medical assistant and do in home care
for hospice patients. I usually begin care in the last few weeks or
months of their lives. The hospice patients I've met are brave, facing the
end of this existence with dignity and. in time, peace. I see them as
heroes, they have my admiration and respect. A bond between caregiver
and patient forms quickly, there is an unspoken trust, I am the last travel
guide they'll have, here, at least.
Prior to my hypnosis training, I didn't know about "intent",
the mind set I have when I walk into a new hospice job. Now, I KNOW,
ahead of time, that the person I am caring for is going to have the best
experience possible (and so is their family). There was a time I didn't have
the tools necessary to calm people, to help them cope with pain that even
drugs can't help. I didn't know how powerful the mind can be. I
also didn't know that people, given the opportunity can find a strength in
them perhaps previously untapped.
No, my job isn't draining. I care for these people
with all my heart, I'll sit with them all night, holding their hand, if
necessary (and many times it is). When they go, peacefully, surrounded
by love, my job is done. I walk out, often in need of sleep, yet ready
to face a new day, just as my person that left this earth is ready to do.
Mardee Anderson
Certified Hypnotherapist
