BY JOELLEN COLLINS
My daughter’s refrigerator is a New Yorker cartoon I sent her. When I first saw it, I was in the middle of a later life exploration of some physical problems, which later turned out to be fixable.
The cartoon shows the proprietor of a bakery, an elderly lady, standing at her window by a sign that says something like “Fresh donuts and news about my health problems.” Unfortunately, her white hair was not the only similarity we have. I laughed at how many of my friends and I spend an inordinate amount of time comparing doctors’ visits, age-related aches and pains, and the sad reality that we are reaching a time in our lives when these are subjects of commonality.
I do remember other times in my life when conversations with my women friends revolved around other all-consuming concerns such as babies’ cries or lack of sleep, career events, teaching our kids how to be independent and yet obedient, cheering together at school sporting events, planning for our children’s college experiences, and seeing them through some of the traumas most of us experience in maturity. So I don’t fault us for talking about issues that are important at this exact time in our existence. I also need to emphasize that much of our conversations involve issues beyond our homes, families, or other personal concerns.
You can now breathe a sigh of relief that, unlike the cupcake lady, I won’t chronicle my past two years of unexpected health issues. Now when people say, “How are you?” I can truthfully say, “Fine, thanks!” I awaken every morning with gratitude for the day ahead, relatively few minor ailments, the beauty of my surroundings, and the affection of my dogs, friends and family.
What I do wish to comment on today is the remarkable care I have experienced at St. Luke’s through emergency room visits, a relatively minor surgery and tests in almost every department of the hospital. (I joke about obstetrics being the one place I haven’t visited in the past two years.) Having lived in Third World countries and seen patients in hideous conditions awaiting care in hallways, I am grateful for the facilities I can contact so near to home, even though I hear some neighbors criticize long waiting periods in the emergency room, the costs of medical care, or a particular doctor’s lack of bedside manners.
A few weeks ago, in the throes of a coughing spell caused by whooping cough, I fell in my kitchen and scraped off a very long stretch of skin on my left arm. The next morning the emergency room cleaned up and dressed the wound and then set me up with the wound care offices in St. Luke’s clinic building. Not only did I not realize that this care was even available, but the tender, relatively pain-free process of repeated dressings was a happy surprise. I couldn’t resist sharing this info with my readers.
Hooray for the doctors and nurses who are close at hand and now included on my gratitude list.
