I see Jesus

Hello All….

As noted last week, since my mom’s radiation schedule is Monday-Friday, we have split the driving duties between my brother (Andy) and me.

And as I explained to my brother, part of the “radiation rotation” schedule is the submission of blog entries. So the following is the first blog submission from Andy and mom’s Big Adventure.

Love to you all,

Val

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They say that people, whom loose one of their five senses, have their remaining senses enhanced. I think the same can be said for those who suffer illness.

Today was my turn to be “wheel man” for mom’s trip to Med Cities Dallas. Part of the job according to Val, is writing an entry for the blogeroo! Valerie has been making the trek for the first week. And doing one hell of a job! I had to wait until I got clearance Clarence from “the job” to use some FMLA time. I leave for a few hours taking sick time, getting her to her treatment and then once she is doing OK back at the casa Longo, head back to work.

So we loaded the green bus and off to Dallas. Mom was commenting that it must have looked funny a cop driving an old lady to Dallas. Sorry, but the story of Ma Barker has already been made into a screenplay mom. It made me feel like Secret Service driving the big dark colored Suburban down the Dallas North Tollway. I also got the opportunity to use our new electronic toll tag. No more searching for quarters, although mom had a stack of them when I got to her house to pick her up. At least it wasn’t an offer for a “nice Swiss cheese or provolone sandwich”. Did I mention that she always has the “good bread” as if there was any other kind?

Everything went fairly quickly, although arriving a little early. We had hoped to slide in and slide right out. She made an impression when she arrived and signed in a-la What’s my Line with a cop standing next to her. I just told the staff that I found her walking on LBJ Frwy and she looked like she needed a place to be. Sorry, Medical Cities was the first place that came to mind. NOT!

Anyway, while mom was in the back getting her radiation treatment for the day, I found myself sitting in the waiting room, eyes closed and listening. Listening to the sound of people coming in and out, various doors closing and the distinct sound a metal one made over a glass sliding door. Men and ladies coming in for their treatments and the sound their individual footwear made on the floor as they walked by.

I heard the Fed-Ex (shameless plug) man and his electronic reader “beep” as he scanned a package. Then the other noises as he confirmed the signature and verified another delivered package was safely delivered.

I listened to the soft voices of the staff, as they instructed a first time patient in a calming and soothing voice how to drink that nasty barium yuck. And how “the pictures” would be much better if it was drunken s.l.o.w.l.y.

I heard a grandmother review in the distance, multiplication tables with a young boy named Peter, who twice now I’ve seen come in for radiation treatments. And an ever so distant sigh of relief, when a husband came out to be reunited with his wife.

All the time holding mom’s coat and it smelled like mom. Not to say mom needs a bath! Noticing that the clothing, like the house she has lived in all these years was part of her. That warm mom, pot of sauce, Italian, love smell. You’ve all had them, maybe just not taking time to notice.

On the way back, a stop at Starbucks and a slice of marble pound cake split in two in the truck. And a street sign named Suffolk! Yep, Suffolk. Imagine that.

And in the course of our talk coming home, we shared a story about an incident two Christmas’ ago. Coming back from church on Christmas Eve, THE CHUMB (Kristen to the rest of the world) calls out. “Dad,” “Yes,” I said thinking she wanted a slurpee or something. “I see Jesus,” She said. I’m thinking OK it’s Christmas, we just left church that is understandable. Then she said a second time, “Dad, I really see Jesus!”
Now I’m beginning to worry or at the very least think we need to talk. Mom, who was in the front seat of the truck at the time, recalls thinking maybe this is a divine presence coming to her four-year-old granddaughter. After all, Jesus DOES love children!
Then a third time, Kristen says; “Dad, I see Jesus and he’s right there see?”
Now everyone in the truck is looking and we don’t see Jesus. Anywhere in the truck, side of the road, in the sky, no Jesus. Our response to The Chumb is that yes; Jesus is with us each and every day of our lives.

Frustrated, Kristen once more says: “DAD, I SEE JESUS AND THERE HE IS!”
And just as we pass a streetlight, on the front windshield, we catch the reflected image of the baby Jesus in his manger from a church bulletin mom had placed on the dashboard of the truck after mass. All along the ride home, Kristen was seeing Jesus!

And that night, we all saw Jesus. But it took an intensive effort of a few adults, to see what a simple child saw all along.

I suppose we should all take the time to hear what we normally don’t hear and see what we normally don’t see. Sometimes things we take as a disability help us to only be a better person.

Here’s hoping you too See Jesus!