Early this afternoon I went in to visit with M. I haven't seen her in a few weeks. We're short a social worker, and I'm not getting as soon or as long to a lot of patients as I would like. I both accept it for what it is, and also feel regret, frustration and a tremendous unmet responsibility.
R., one of the nurses, was there too. We're the same age and have a lot of life circumstances in common. At the same time, we're very different people. Yet I feel an uncommon connection to her, and I think she feels it with me too. Some kind of certain and rare energy, and its a very good and shining energy, but fleeting too. M. was in bed, as she always is. Her mind is intact entirely, though her processing goes very slow. Wait for it, and she will find her way to exactly what she means. Her body is of no use or function anymore, and hasn't been, for 30 years.
She says she is ready to die, and has said so for some time. R. sat in a chair on one side of her, and me in a chair on the other. M. was a little snippy, with a low grade fever, a long visit with a complicated family relationship, achy feet, from the rain she said. We drew her out; R. and I have a teasing routine we do that is both affectionate and brutal; the patients love it. M. joined in, and for a while they both piled on me. It was one of those genuine, funny, present moments. Each of us so fully there. A spontaneous and perfect synergy. It just was. When was the last time you were part of a group of people, where everyone really was having a great time, and being seen, and laughing a true laugh? I wish it weren't so, but I don't think it actually happens that much.
It was one of the most enjoyable moments I've had in months. It was just a pleasure. There is something in both R. and M. that I truly love, and I think for them the same in me, and each other. It was in the room just then, and we got to feast on it.
There was a moment in particular when we were all laughing in surprise and delight at something fairly off-color that R. had said about me that I could feel something else shared and unsaid enter the room. It didn't break the moment, or change it much, but there it was: dress rehearsal. We will be here again, R. on one side of M. and me on the other, and we will be talking, and maybe teasing, and maybe laughing, but M. will busy with her dying. We will sit around and talk over her body, just like this. Today was a promise we'll be here again, and not so long from now.
It didn't sober me or make me reflective or sorry or sad. It was the drinking and the songs and the dirty jokes around the campfire the night before the battle. You don't waste that night worrying over tomorrow. You have a good time. You're more here because you know tomorrow is there. You don't name it or say it to your mates. You all know you all know what will come to pass. That is enough.
It was a good campfire today. It really was.
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