Groundhog Day

HOPEspotters, Hello!! It has certainly been a while. Our last encounter was on Election Night 2016 and after that post, I think I lost my voice a little bit. While many events moved me, inspired me, frustrated me, enlightened me, I found it all boggy for my blogg-y. Life has felt a bit like a game of dodgeball and only today did I finally catch one of those balls and create an “out”.  My moment of clarity was found at Gobbler’s Knob on this unsung holiday, Groundhog Day.

This morning I stood in my kitchen, making breakfast, packing lunches and emptying the dishwasher as I do on most days. Daily drudgery.  The “Today Show” was on in the background, as is our habit, and on this morning live feed was coming in from Punxsutawney, Pennsylvania. Men in morning suits were lifting high their otherwise reclusive rodent to determine whether or not “he” saw a shadow.  Pomp and circumstance surrounded the announcement about the groundhog’s prediction for six more weeks of winter.

In today’s tumultuous times, Punxsutawney’s preservation of tradition is precious and brave. It was the kindest three minutes found on the morning news. The festivities reminded me, of course, of the classic Bill Murray, “Groundhog Day”.

If you haven’t seen it -- spoiler alert: Bill Murray is an ornery, generally dissatisfied meteorologist, assigned to cover Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney, and doesn’t hide his contempt for the tradition. In a bizarre twist, Murray’s character gets stuck in a time loop and relives Groundhog Day repeatedly. Initially, Murray takes every advantage of knowing he will be just fine in the morning to participate in bad behavior and debaucherous behavior. Then, his heart begins to soften for the community he comes to know so well and Murray takes advantage of the ability to prevent tragedies like the Mayor choking or a homeless person dying of the cold and begins to act as a superhero. Finally, Murray discovers a way to use the day he can’t seem to stop reliving to get his beautiful producer, for whom he has harbored feelings, to fall in love with him because he demonstrates his newly found goodness. It is that love that breaks him out of the time loop and move on with his life - happily.

So here I am, HOPEspotters, on February 2nd, with my typical call to action. We are 33 days into 2017 and any of you who may have made New Year’s Resolutions might be worrying about having broken them.

Friends, I am here to propose a movement, based on Bill Murray’s fictional character, to make a GROUNDHOG DAY RESOLUTION.

Here’s the thing: New Year’s Resolutions are typically punitive. ‘I do too much of this. I don’t do enough of that.’ We enter into them with the belief that a 12 month period, that magically begins on an evening celebrated with excess and awkward Mariah Carey performances, will transform us. Somehow turning the page in a calendar will give us more willpower. Less addictions. Greater focus.

And failure often results.

Groundhog Day Resolutions are a different animal altogether.  And we can all do this.

If we look at the example of Bill Murray’s character, we see that attempts at human betterment are valiant and admirable but not always life changing in the ways we expect. Despite learning to play the piano and speak a different language, he was still “stuck”. And isn’t this true? How many people, myself included, lose and gain weight because the bad habit driver still exists? That’s probably why people make the same New Year’s resolutions year after year with admirable optimism that “this” year is going to be “the year”.

I often joke that I am Bill Murray- reliving “Groundhog Day”. I get up. I get the boys up. I make breakfast. I make lunches. I clean the kitchen. I go to work. I talk to sick people with sad families. I have the same conversation. I talk on the phone. I sit in traffic. I go to Publix. I make dinner. I do laundry. I clean the kitchen. I go to bed.

Frankly, it’s disrespectful to paint that picture and I, of all people, should know better. I GET to do these things. My days, difficult as some may be, unsexy as most are, are days of privilege. And wouldn’t I be a better person if I just acknowledged that?

Sure. But that sounds like a New Year’s Resolution.

A Groundhog’s Day Resolution sounds a lot more like Jim Valvano’s speech at the ESPY’s, months before his untimely, but likely death from cancer. The acclaimed and fiery basketball coach wisely told an audience of athletes, “If you laugh, you think and you cry, that’s a full day. That’s a heck of a day. You do that seven days a week you’re going to have something special.”

Or to return to the world of sport, the recently departed Craig Sager: “I will live my life full of love and full of fun. It’s the only way I know how.” And what was SO cool when Craig Sager died, his longtime friend, Steve Kerr, coach of the Golden State Warriors, asked the fans for - not a moment of silence in his friend’s honor, but a moment of joy.  

In hospice- and everyday life- I see SO MUCH BRAVERY. Life can present some scary and seemingly hopeless circumstances. And I stupidly fall prey, at times, to the feeling of powerlessness.

Recently, a young boy in our community died in a tragic accident. He was a lead in the about to be presented school play. Orange was his favorite color. One can not make sense of his death. Our community responded with a candlelight vigil. Mailboxes decorated in orange. And the play is going on, with his Mom continuing to volunteer.

That is real life grabbing love, being brave, and choosing not to be stuck on Groundhog’s day.

Tonight I stand symbolically in Gobbler’s Knob. I’m not looking at my good and bad habits. I’m looking at the opportunity to be “un-stuck” from the time loop and start to see the privilege in my life, seizing the messy, difficult, at times exhausting love. And it’s not easy, but it is most certainly the thing that will get me to the next day.

With love and HOPE,  Happy Groundhog’s Day, Friends!

 

Our 2016 Decision

Hopespotters, HELLO! You may have heard there is an election today that will decide the 45th President of the United States. Kind of a big deal, you know? If you are a media “watchdog”, you may have heard that the country is very divided about the two presidential candidates; apparently many people don’t even like either of them! Presently, we are a nation chanting “I’m with Her” vs those chanting “Make America Great Again.”

Of course, I am kidding with the light heartedness in my tone. Today is a very big deal in determining our country’s future and many Americans are passionate about their choice. As I write this, results are coming in, but no winner has been declared. On this blog, I have tried to avoid any political conversations or debates. In this space, they are purposeless. What I have tried to do, however, is try, at times, to bring what I learn in my days meeting with and caring for the terminally ill and apply the great perspective that gives me to some things about which we can all relate.

Today’s Election is really a great opportunity for that. And I say that without taking the hospice experience or this election lightly.

When I am called to meet with a patient and family newly referred to hospice, I understand that the call to me may have been the hardest call they’ve ever had to make.  And while each patient and family is unique, I have come to learn the commonalities in the experience after 16 years.

Battling advanced disease, for most people, is an all out, gloves off, no holds barred war. Regardless of whether the diagnosis is cancer, ALS or any other end stage disease, patients come to hospice straight of the battlefield. Since the moment they learned of their illness, patients fight for treatment and relentlessly pursue their goal of cure. Many may argue with specialists, travel far away for “better answers” and become exhausted by their fight. Patients’ families, unconditionally by their side, advise them, advocate for them, pray for them. A groundswell of community support is essential for victory. In war against advanced illness, there is passion, there is rage, and there is a tremendous amount of energy expended. Every person involved has clung to HOPE and faced bitter disappointment, sometimes over and over again.

So you can understand that when the day comes to call hospice and I ring the bell, there is no victory party. Patients and families are defeated. The battle for cure has not been won and the war wounds are deep. All the belief and positive energy that went into envisioning a different outcome goes right out the door at the same moment I walk in it. And that is very, very sad.

I am not here to spin a tale of how the angels of hospice make it all better and everyone lives happily ever after. Because they don’t. Someone precious usually dies and often times way sooner than their family expected. Despite all the good things I can say, and do believe, about the positive impact of hospice, the mortality reality is grim and harsh.

When we do our job to the best of our ability, the hospice team takes the opportunity to surround the patient and family with support and expertise and this critical message:  there are still things to fight for and there are still things to hope for. While cure may not come, we have this day, and hopefully more,  to live well, uphold quality of life, and do some ‘final work’ that needs to be done. We can give and get forgiveness. We can tell stories of happy times. We can be present. Because by doing those things and doing them well, a legacy is created. The final chapter in that patient’s time on earth is marked by peace. And as the narrative of that family’s life goes on, the legacy of this loving time becomes a cornerstone for their ability to go on.

Even if it isn’t easy.

When someone wins this election, someone is going to lose. Those that battled and campaigned for the belief system that didn’t come out on top are likely to grieve. They will be bewildered and they will be angry. Time, money, energy, passion has been spent and seemingly lost. And now the “losers” must live and work amongst the “winners”. Just like the husband who lost his wife to breast cancer yet still walks in the “3 day” with survivors of the disease, the reality will sting. Why did I fight so hard and why didn’t it go my way?

With this parallel, I invite the country to take a page from the hospice playbook. WE have to focus on how WE, as the citizens of the United States of America, want to establish our legacy from this time in history and WE have to go on. It will be our greatest gift to the younger generations. WE MUST remember that despite the outcome, there are always things to fight for and always things to HOPE for. To each side I would say, you couldn’t have fought any harder (maybe nicer, but not harder). With the knowledge that this is the path WE have now been given, whatever that is, WE have to leave the fight for the office of the President behind because that fight is over. What WE have to do is take the opportunity to hold a hand, to give and get forgiveness and to be at peace. And then, WE have to go on.Together.

Even if it isn’t easy.

God Bless the USA!

 

Hope and the Great Pumpkin

Sean has had two sleepovers in the past two weekends. He’s exhausted. I am always exhausted. Tonight, as we battled for that last half hour of contentment before resigning to bed, we watched Charlie Brown’s “It’s the Great Pumpkin” and I have so much to say.

As an early disclaimer, I grew up in a Catholic church with incredible priests: men who could take the gospel and make it real and liveable to every participant. Monsignor Mahoney, was one who became a beloved family friend and ultimately officiated my wedding. Father Mahoney caught my attention as a child in his homilies as he often referenced the Peanuts gang. So that my theology goes back to Charlie Brown may seem brilliant, but it is admittedly not entirely original.

For those of you who haven’t seen “The Great Pumpkin” in a while, I am here to provide a brief reminder.  Charlie Brown’s best friend, Linus, is filled with anticipation and joy about the upcoming arrival of the Great Pumpkin.  Per Linus, the Great Pumpkin rises out of the pumpkin patch and brings toys to all the boys and girls. Linus foregoes trick or treating awaiting the arrival of the majestic Great Pumpkin. Linus’s sister, Lucy, is verbally outraged at his foolish belief and behavior. Charlie Brown’s smitten sister, Sally, stays with Linus, believing they will celebrate the Great Pumpkin’s arrival together.

Spoiler alert:  the Great Pumpkin doesn’t come. Sally is enraged. Linus is dismayed. And mean Lucy, in spite of herself, rescues Linus from the patch and lovingly brings him back to  bed. Upon awaking, Linus professes NO remorse to Charlie Brown for his devotion to the Great Pumpkin.

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you palliative care. Hope. The loud voice of second opinion. Tenacity. Discouragement. Support. Unbreakable faith.

Again, with a nod of gratitude to Father Mahoney for illuminating the theology within the Peanuts gang, I offer these thoughts. The Great Pumpkin is special: whether it be as ethereal as the Holy Spirit, as pragmatic as a symbol of hope, or as allegorical as treatment for advanced disease, that Pumpkin represents something worth waiting for. Linus, ever the representative of humanity seeking the Lord, remains steadfast in his belief of this wonderful thing that he has never seen. In this story, Linus is Faith 101.

Linus’s faith is unwavered by the mockery of his friends and especially his sister. Linus’s faith becomes a clear and shiny hope, an anticipation of a delivery of belief. Linus is every parent of a child with cancer. Linus is a stage IV patient returning to MD Anderson. It isn’t that Linus doesn’t hear the Peanuts gang mocking him, and it most certainly isn’t that Linus doesn’t want to trick or treat. To be sure, Linus takes all of that in but is instead drunk with hope that no one can dare call false because they don’t know any better.

The night in the Pumpkin patch is the perfect allegory for a season of disease treatment. Linus and Sally stay side by side, certain for the arrival of the “Great Pumpkin”. Friends come and mock their choice. They offer the option of leaving for something more fun. Linus at one point becomes so convinced he has in fact seen the Great Pumpkin (which is only Snoopy) he passes out. Eventually, weary from waiting, Sally, the primary caregiver of Linus, leaves in a heap of frustration. Linus seems sad, but remains steadfast in his belief.

To me, the most touching and poignant moment of “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown” comes in a scene with no dialogue. Lucy, Linus’s sister, awakens at 4 am to realize Linus is still out in the pumpkin patch. Silently, she trudges out and assists the very cold and sleepy Linus to bed. She doesn’t gloat, she doesn’t ask for thanks.  This character who has represented opposition to belief in a thing unseen, succumbs to love for her brother and seemingly forgives him for his devotion to a hopeful notion.  Perhaps, she even loves him a little for it.

Many many days, I meet patients and families who remind me of Linus. Boldly optimistic and infatuated with hope. For the love of GOD, if I do anything right in my job, I never ever want to squash that hope or depress their inner Linus.  The challenge is how to break the news that the “Great Pumpkin” they thought was coming, isn’t, BUT there is still reason to stay in the patch with a heart filled with hope. The challenge is to remind Sally her time wasn’t wasted and to encourage Lucy to not wait until 4 am to show her kindness.

I love the Peanuts gang and I love working in Palliative care. And I encourage each of you reading, to spend a moment, in a pumpkin patch, spiritually beside Linus, with a heart full of hope.

 

Motherly thoughts on Billy Bush

So when I started this blog, I had in my head some “rules”. Among them were don’t be preachy, because God knows I am no expert on ANYTHING, and don’t go political, because, well, yeah.. #obvious.

And yet, here I am, on October 13th, dipping my toe into a topic that might potentially be perceived as violating those rules.

Enter the taped conversation between Donald Trump and Billy Bush on the Access Hollywood bus 11 years ago. And please forgive me, but I have something to say; better said, I have a point I’d like to add to the conversation.

But before I do, I have to state all the necessary disclaimers.  This is not a political post. I am an equal opportunity loather of our presidential candidates. I understand there are strong views in support of or against each candidate, but the HOPEspot is not the place for those feelings or opinions. To be clear, the following observations/ thoughts neither endorse nor support any candidate.

Here I go… There has been much discussion for the past six days about the recorded conversation between Donald Trump and Billy Bush on the Access Hollywood bus 11 years ago. Saturday Night Live has rightfully had a field day. So many opinions and feelings have been shared, tweeted, and preached.

I care not to weigh in on Mr. Trump’s comments. Too many other media outlets have that more than well covered. The only thing I might add (because you know I can’t resist) is: what locker room is the Donald referencing? To look at his physique and his hair, I am not at all perceiving him as an “athlete” going to a “locker room” where these conversations could be taking place.

Nevertheless, I am going to admit (sorry, not sorry) I wasn’t “shaken to the core” as Michelle Obama was. As a waitress in a men’s golf grill, I’ve heard stuff. I’m not excusing or endorsing anything. My point is different entirely.

Many people are taking to any form of media they can find to beseech men to abstain from this sort of talk. Everyone with a conscious, anxious to show their moral responsibility on line, are screaming out to young men that “rape talk” has to be stopped. And they are right.

I am the mother of two boys. I want to raise them well. I can tell already their hearts are in the right place. But I want to seize this teachable moment to drive this particular message home: don’t be Billy Bush.

You see, many people will have various opinions of Mr. Trump’s statements, its appropriateness and its relevance. His words will be weighed against Hillary Clinton’s sins and no one will win. It has been hard enough to raise and guide intelligent and observant young boys in this election season and explain all of the vitriol and yet continue to cheer that we live in the best country in the world. This isn’t however, our best hour.

Billy Bush is the interviewer, bringing Mr. Trump to the event where he is so anxious to grope and be inappropriate. If you listen to the tape in its entirety, which I’ve barely had the stomach to do, Mr. Bush doesn’t ACTUALLY say anything profane. He just plays along, doesn’t object, and laughs supportively.

Playing along…. does anyone else remember their mother saying, “if Joe Dokes jumped off a bridge would you?” Or, “trouble finds company, ma’am?”

By playing along, Billy Bush has lost his job and possibly killed his career. He has offended female co workers he called friends and he has probably “disappointed” his wife and daughters, who he just moved to NYC from LA for his promotion with NBC. Mr. Donald Trump still, even with this last scandal, has a good shot to be president, but Billy Bush who “went along with it” is jobless and shamed.

As I said from the beginning, I am not going to comment on Mr. Trump’s statements. Your feelings are up to you.  The events on the Access Hollywood bus (holy God has that become the parenting “benchmark”) inspire me to make sure that neither Ryan nor Sean be the “Billy Bush” because he is the biggest loser in this whole fiasco and his position is probably the easiest trap in which one can fall.

And if you readers will let me, I will take this one step further. Here is where we are: Trump was gross. Billy shouldn’t have just went along. I need to teach my sons to not be Billy.

Not being Billy is bigger, however, than the Access Hollywood bus.Going along or not speaking up can be a grievous sin. Not being Billy means inviting nerds to your lunch table. Not being Billy means saying I don’t agree with your viewpoint and I am ok saying that respectfully. Not being Billy means people like nurses standing up to authorities like doctors who are not working in the best needs of the helpless. Not being Billy means looking at your life and saying I can’t do this today, but I still support this cause. Not being Billy means not accepting CRAP just to keep the “bus moving” and having the self confidence and power to say “too far. Too much. Not here. Not with me.”

Not being Billy even goes so far as to reach out to someone depressed or struggling. To say, “I love you” even when it feels awkward.

RIP Billy Bush. You are a sad but necessary casualty in an ongoing opinion war. Thank you for showing us all the danger of going along to get along.