Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Tears: Take Two

Yesterday as we sat in Room 7, in clinic 1A of 
the Huntsman Institute and were told the news,
I watched as Kyle's eyes filled with tears
when he heard, again, how his body was really doing.

Now one thing you have to realize, is that at
the Huntsman they like to cover all their bases.

So in the room (besides Kyle, myself, his mother
and his sister) were several other people.

Those people included Dr. Sharma, his PA Joan, 
Angelique our social worker, the pharmacist to
review Kyle's meds and see what to add or take off,
and Mallory the RN who makes lists and appointments
and calls.

One little exam room is always pretty full.  
Sometimes it is a bit overwhelming.

But yesterday I watched Kyle's face and saw his eyes
fill with tears and Angelique told me to grab
him some tissues.

And I knew he wasn't crying about what we already 
had been told, I knew his heart was tender about 
something else as he looked around the room filled
with people.


Last week Dave, Kyle's best friend was here, and he leaned
over and kissed Kyle on the forehead before he left with
his typical "Love ya buddy."

I walked Dave out and he commented on Kyle's emotions,
assuming sadness at what was transpiring. 


I tried to explain that the tears are not out of 
sadness, although he is sad, but more out of tenderness.

A tender heart that has been stripped away of 
everything else that doesn't matter anymore.

A heart that only sees and feels the love and goodness
from those around him who are trying to help make
his journey, from here to there, a more peaceful thing.

Kyle isn't crying because he is sad--he is crying 
because he feels what all the rest of us forget about 
most of the time.

He is crying because he knows the secret about what
is really most important in this life.

He's lived it for 21 months.  He has been the recipient 
for 21 months.  His heart is full, of love.

There are no magic answers about what will happen in
the days and weeks ahead, and to be quite honest, there
are no magical answers about what comes next for Kyle.

But what we do know, and what Kyle knows better than
anyone, is that love is the most magical healing
soulful real thing in this world.

It's a lesson that we hope to not soon forget, for
if we do?  This has all been in vain.


And so yesterday when Kyle's tears were falling in Room
7 of Clinic 1A--it was not out of sadness--but out
of gratitude for doctors and nurses and MA's and phlebs 
and pharmacists and ladies who check him in every week
at the front desk and social workers and lab workers
and a whole slew of people who have been fighting for him
to live for 21 months.

People who also had real tears in their eyes because
they loved a man named Kyle and wanted so very desperately
for his journey NOT to nearing it's end.

People with degrees longer than my arm, who have diligently
searched for any and every way to "save" this 46 year
old man to give him just a little bit more time with
those he loves.

Because they love and care in spite of overwhelming
odds against survival.

And so if you see Kyle and he has tears in his eyes
(which is most likely)--just know that it is because
he knows the real meaning of the one word, the word
that matters more than anything else...

The word LOVE.

And that's what I've got for today.

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