Medicine

Perhaps I should have titled my blog, Random Thoughts, because that seems to be more appropriate lately. So many thoughts that weave in and out of my mind, so many emotions, so many lessons, those learned and applied, those yet to be introduced, let alone learned. What brought "medicine" to mind, I suppose, are all those I somehow now find in my ever growing circle who, for one reason or another, find the need for medicine. Maybe it's the strongest form, the chemotherapy, or the drugs to ease the pain and discomfort of a spreading, or even dormant, cancer. Maybe it's the prescription to bring balance to a body whose chemicals or cells or hormones find it necessary to medicate in order to function. Maybe it's the small, or large, doses of sleeping aids that some need in order to shut off the pain, whether emotional or physical. Or maybe it is the three tylenol that I take each morning to ease the pain of joints and muscles or arthritis, whatever the case may be.

Medicine comes in many forms, and a funny story (well, sort of) comes to mind. My father and mother grew up in the martini generation and each night, well, standard practice was to share a drink together as Dad came in from his day. They would sit and share that drink, no matter what was going on, and yes, sometimes, one led to two, and then maybe three, and often, the three of us would be edgy, wanting to eat, yet, somehow, it was just the expectation that dinner always followed the drinks. When my parents moved in with us, I recall Allison asking Grandpa what that drink was with the lemon in it, and his response, "my medicine". She took it literally, as any young girl would...years later, when she took a sip of his medicine while the glass sat on the kitchen counter, she realized, this wasn't really medicine at all! Or was it?! We all know those, and even ourselves, who count on our own form of "medicine" to take care of what ails us! I always say, but there by the grace of God go I that I am not addicted to any form of drug or alcohol...I suppose some would question that if they saw the number of empty wine bottles from time to time, so suffice it to say, I do like wine and yes, in many ways, if I drank it every day, it could become an addiction, and probably HAS served as my form of medicine a time or two. And while I must be honest, and share that there have been many times since Allison's passing, that if I knew a certain "medicine" would dull my pain, take it away, make me forget, help me cope, I would be the first to take it. I even had those offering to share their perscriptions with me at the onset of this journey, "just to take the edge off". And, by admittance, I did see my physican about a sleep sedative for awhile, when rest was so desperately sought and needed. And I am no hero, I have cried to God to spare me this pain, that surely there is a drug out there that can numb this grief, that can make me a little foggy, a little groggy, that can take the images, dreams, reflections, away. But it wasn't the course for me, and God truly knows that each one of us responds differently. I have always said, and mean from the bottom of my heart, that I am so thankful that faith and trust in a loving God was part of my life before this journey began. If not for Him, this whole scenario would look different, I know it as well as I know my own name.

When Allison would enter chemotherapy or radiation treatments, she read the pamphlet given to us, "God's medicine", and she never looked at it any other way. Sure, she learned that she had to take the drugs that were prescribed, she learned the difficult lessons that when you are a cancer patient and do not stay ahead of the pain, it gets ahead of you. We all learned valuable lessons associated with medicine, but we also learned that doctors and nurses and medications do part of the work, your faith and belief in God's healing does more. Her beloved oncologist never let her lose sight of that, either. You could tell he knew he was a mere mortal, not God, not the ultimate physician, not the man with all the answers, and he, too, gave her the gift of hope and miracles and God's presence. I hope Allison knows how proud we are to be her parents, her sister, her family, that she left us the desire to take the pain, swallow hard some days, go to sleep without benefit of drugs, wake up without a pill, face the grief, roll with it, deal with it the best and only way we can...in honor of the Father who never forsakes us and in memory of a daughter who would choose the clean, pure way of handling this, with as much dignity as we can muster, and as much strength to live this day.