The Lighter Side

Going through the trials associated with major health issues can be physically and emotionally draining, and can quickly take its toll on the human psyche. It becomes more difficult to see any kind of silver lining or find the tiniest ray of light in the things that once made us smile and gave us joy.

 Ecclesiastes 3:4 says “there is a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance”. 

God’s word also tells us that “A cheerful heart is like good medicine”, and I believe that with every ounce of my being. I have witnessed the differences in the health and healing of others, as well as myself—with those who chose to find joy, and those who chose to mourn their prognosis. 

The idea for this page came to my mind as my mother and I sat visiting over lunch one afternoon, and we began remembering some of the lighter times we shared during those “dark days”. Yes, we mourned. Yes, we wept. But we also learned to laugh . . . a lot! And sometimes we even danced, or at least tried. It is true; it is “Better to light a candle than curse the darkness.” 

Though the joy of the Lord is truly our ultimate and abiding strength, sometimes our attitude can be the strength of our joy for the moment.

I hope you enjoy these true stories, and I would love to add yours to the page. I've also included some that maybe were not necessarily humorous, as they were memorable.  

Just call me Old Yeller!

After returning home following my bad rejection, the hospital sustained my progress through weekly, sometimes bi-weekly lab work.  My husband had used up so much of his vacation time with me, and fortunately we live close to family. Therefore, my parents would often take me. My Dad really enjoyed it, therefore, we spent a great deal of time on the road . . . and in restaurants—our favorite thing to do after labs. 

One of the effects of this bad of rejection is that it left me with undeniably yellow skin. It’s a very distinct, unnatural color, and when you see it, you know something is not right with that person. 

The whites of my eyes were also yellow. Yellow-yellow!  Almost orange! I was a little embarrassed at first to go out looking that way, but decided this is my lot for the moment, and it was no reason to go into hiding.  If people stared—they stared. If they asked questions—wonderful! And some did. 

My dad and I finished our breakfast and walked to the front counter to pay out. A very energetic young man with a hair style that resembled a jet-black cockatoo with green highlights, sprang into action, and asked, “Everything okay?” As I stood on the other side of the counter digging through the mint bowl, I looked up and acknowledged our satisfaction of the meal. 

He froze . . . and so did I. Then he broke the awkward moment with,

“Du-u-u-de, how did you do that with your eyes?”

I loved it!  I thought, ‘that’s the most honest reaction I think I’ve ever heard.’ 

I told him that it was not any kind of special drops, but in fact I had a very sick liver that was slowly healing. 

“Oh wow, man! I’ve never seen that before.” 

We still laugh about that moment today. Gotta love gut level honesty! 

Innocent Inquisitions

On another outing following my rejection, my mother and I stopped by a local pharmacy to pick up new medications. While standing in line waiting our turn, we stood beside a woman who held the hand of what appeared to be her young granddaughter. She looked to be around 6 years old. Notably shocked by my yellow skin and eyes, I could tell she had been evidently well trained in the art of graciousness and respect, as she slowly turned away to cling to her grandmother, while innocent curiosity compelled her to turn back again and again. 

I decided to meet this little one on her level and in the same spirit she had shown. So I got down on one knee and said, “I must look kind of strange, huh?”  

She slowly nodded her reply, adding a drawn-out and breathy, “Uh, huh.” 

I smiled and said, “I know I do, but I’m a little sick right now, and when I get better, I’ll be as beautiful as you are.” 

That seemed to satisfy her and her countenance changed reflecting her acceptance of my simple explanation.

Little people like honesty too. It’s refreshing for everyone.

Hit by a Bus?

Following my transplant, family members took turns staying with me in an extended stay hotel for about a month, while my husband and children tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy – Chuck went to work and the kids started back to school.  My mom, aunt, and my husband’s aunt rotated weeks; Mom of course stayed most often. 

On our very first outing, we ventured to Wal-Mart to see if we could locate a couple new tops for me that disguised the black/blue/purple/red/ bruising on my neck and arms. Multiple instruments had been attached to me through wires, lines and tubes, leaving me very bruised. 

I found a few summer tops that I thought would work and got in line. 

Adults are not nearly as fun as children are, as uneasiness turns most people away. We’ve become a society of “don’t ask”, which is really a shame. To be fair, I know for some cases, we are afraid to ask for fear of what we may hear, possibly encroaching into a very delicate situation. Therefore, we are silent. 

So, as I neared the clerk, I noticed she’d been noticing me and I could tell, as much as she tried to cover it, curiosity had become a distraction for her. Finally, she mustered the courage to ask, “Were you in a car wreck?” 

I smiled and told her that I had actually just received a liver transplant, and the bruising was due to being plugged into so many machines. “However”, I said, “I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus!”  

I wished I could have stayed longer to share with her of the importance of organ donation, and the reason I was standing there was because someone else had chosen long ago to do so. 

I think she’ll remember that day. At least, I hope so. 

 

Missed Opportunity

A few years after my transplant, my daughter had finally neared the widely coveted driving age, so we began the process of getting her driving license. Once she finally passed the actual driving test, we eagerly drove to the tag office to obtain proof that she was now legal to drive. While we stood at the counter signing papers, another couple had their teenage son doing the same thing we were doing. 

The office was small, so I couldn’t help but overhear a conversation the mother was having with her son as they filled out the information to be transferred to his new license. 

The son came to the question which read, “Do you want to be an organ donor?” 

He scrunched his brows,shrugged his shoulders and said, “I dunno. Mom, do I want to be an organ donor?” 

The mom looked over his shoulder at the form, and with a grimace, shook her head adding, “No, you don’t need to check that.” 

As I stood by my daughter, I looked at her and her expression confirmed that she heard the same thing I heard.

But, do we say something? We both wanted to, but there’s always that pesky apprehension that stifles so many things left unsaid. 

What we wanted to say was, 

“Excuse me. I couldn’t help but overhear when you told your son that he doesn’t need to check the organ donor box. I respect your opinions, but I also wanted to let you know that the only reason I am standing here today with my daughter getting her driver’s license is because someone else checked their box on their driver’s license.”

“I would have missed this day, as well as so many others—graduations, school events, first dates, and I’m looking forward to the weddings, new babies, and a long life with my husband.  All of those, I would have missed.” 

“But, that’s just me.”

 On the drive home, we both wish we'd spoken up, but vowed not to let those opportunities ever slip by again.

A little donor awareness humor!