I just watched a movie about cooking and blogging and butter. It was lovely, and a couple of tears surfaced, though none dropped.
I met some people at work. One was the nicest man, and I wish I could have him over for Thanksgiving dinner. I don't know if I'll ever hear from him again, but I have mixed feelings about this. Oncology nurses face attachment issues, and everyone has his own opinion about what "too attached" means. If I see him again, I may understand more about that.
I think about people I've cared for in the past, and I have no regrets about attachments. I only feel honored to have cared for them. Sometimes, tears surface or even drop for them, but I am not a mess. My life has more meaning, because I cared for them. I think of the man whose hair I cut during his induction chemotherapy. I think of Norwegian man. I even think of yellow man who was more obviously close to death than the others. None of them are living now, and soon, my Thanksgiving friend will go, too. Normal people don't understand what an honor it is to care for these. They think about is the pain I must feel.
I met someone else at work that helped me remember simple math. If I expend more energy than I take in, I will lose weight and be tired. At work, there's very little replenishing built into the system for nurses. Bottom line: I need to eat more, buy more plants, and take more baths.
Recently, a friend asked me if I'm doing what I'm made for. I think I was wrong when I said, "Not yet". It's like sentences. Every word is important. And this word in my life is part of my testimony.
"They overcome him by the blood of the lamb and by the word of their testimony." Revelation 12:11