A Good News Medical Scare: I had a doctor’s appointment this afternoon and told her about my new cough. It was sometimes intense. She said this was sometimes an indication of cancer or pneumonia and told me I needed to go to the Intensive Care Center and get a chest and lung scan. I am a former smoker and a diabetic with heart disease. That always concerns doctors. And I am 77. Time to go pretty soon. She got me right into the hospital, and I was tested around 3:30. By the time we got home – Maria was with me – there was a message from her saying the scan was all good news – there was no sign of cancer or any other concernable issue. Modern medicine works fast; from the time she examined me to the test results was about three and a half hours.
I don’t have cancer or any other bad news. I was worried a bit. My doctor suggested I get dressed to go outside in the morning and take photos rather than going in sub-zero temperatures (Maria ratted me out). We did have to cancel our first weekly “This Is Our Story” video; we’ll do it in the morning. We are incredibly grateful for one another tonight. I was anxious but didn’t believe it was my time, and I felt fine. Getting tested for cancer does encourage perspective; it gets one thinking about life and how short it can be. I wondered what would happen if it was true, another warning against being stupid. I have a life worth living for. I am thinking of the many people who get worse news. See you in the morning. We’ll do the video then, and hopefully, we will do it for many weeks beyond.
Wounded Child
I often approach the wounded child when upset or looking to understand compassion. When discussing listening with empathy, I usually think of listening to someone else. I realized in my therapy work that the person I needed to be listening to was me, the child inside of me. Sometimes, that child needs a lot of attention; he was terrified of the future, but I can assure him it got better and is better. (I got the girl, after all).
I didn’t realize that the child often pleaded for attention and reassurance. He emerged from the deepest parts of me, which were not simple to find. But I discovered I was talking to myself by comforting and reassuring him.
That was a mind-bender.
It helped a great deal. He was listening. Very often now, when something hurts or frightens me, instead of paying attention to a politician, angry person, or other trouble, I am learning to go back and tell the wounded child that it’s okay; it got better. My flowers help me in that when I think of the child, I think of a flower I photograph and show him the image in my head. He goes right to sleep instead of wetting the bed. I understand that almost every profound emotion comes from or goes back to the child. They need to be heard.
