When you work in long term care, it is inevitable that your life becomes public knowledge to your patients. They are like coworkers — you see your patients every day, often more than your own family, and it is impossible, after a few months, to hide every detail of your life.
My patients are apt to say ‘That’s a blessing’ in place of ‘That’s great’ or ‘I’m so happy for you’ or any other polite nicety we fill the gap in conversation with when we don’t have anything else to say. Call it the simple religiosity of the chronically ill, or call it godly praising of people who believe because they want to not because they have to. ‘That’s a blessing’ becomes an all-too familiar retort.
I moved to Jacksonville in August 2010, 16 months ago to the day today. I had been in Ohio so long that it was time for a change and there seemed to be adequate opportunities for career growth here. I wasn’t particularly happy with the way my life had gone in Cincinnati, and I had made promise to myself that one day I would leave.
I wouldn’t get stuck there. I didn’t want to get stuck there.
My parents had just moved to Jacksonville, and, though we joked that it was so clicheed that they would move to Florida as they got older, I know they felt the same thing I was feeling… they had lived in Charleston for so long, the kids were gone, it was time to find something new.
When I made the decision to move, I told everyone that it was because I wanted to hang out with my parents while they were still young enough to travel, eat out, meet and occasionally have a drink with my friends.
I gave myself a year when I moved here to fuck around. I wanted to party, think about my future as little as possible, and get all the stress from my last two years in Cincy out of my system. And I did. When one year hit, I took stock and found myself in a job that did not particularly move me, a series of failed relationships — including one big one that sent me for a loop, and looking at graduate schools. Truth be told, I had already visited one graduate school kind of on accident, but Iowa looked like something different and something new and it had people there whom I loved and who loved me all the same.
Also at a year, mama’s health took a turn. I won’t repeat the story, but it’s there if you want to back read it. But I knew that I had come to Jacksonville for a reason. I’m not a believer, but, if you ever need a reason to believe that sometimes things happen for a reason, look no further than here.
But back to my patients…
This Christmas, the whole family came in, and a few friends from high school who have long since been added to the roster of tangential family members. I told my patients everyone who had stopped through this last week — leaving out the phone calls, the emails, the texts that people from around the country and around the world have left for us these past two weeks. I smile and tell my patients what a wonderful Christmas we had, how happy everyone is, how perfect this whole holiday turned out to be. Even how we all had time to just sit around with a drink in our hand (in a sippy cup, obvi) in mom and dad’s new pool — their Christmas present to each other — while mom sat by and enjoyed the sun and the Christmas lights and the family time.
And the all-too-familiar retort brings me to tears, “That’s a blessing.”
Yes, yes it has been.
) and are eagerly awaiting the much talked about rum punch at the Port-au-Prince airport.
