Truly Bittersweet
On December 29th, I interviewed for the perfect job on the adolescent med-surg floor of the Johns Hopkins Children’s Center. I’d been preparing for weeks, doing plenty of research about the history of Hopkins, even googling my interviewer and I felt really confident that I would be putting my best foot forward, and providing an accurate representation of my skills, desires and goals.
Five hours later, I walked out of the hospital feeling like I’d aced it. The manager and I had gotten along really well, and she seemed to agree with my answers to every question she asked. The other nurses on the floor seemed like me- smart, driven and eager to serve patients in the best way possible.
That afternoon, Daddy called to ask how the interview went… and then asked us to come home. After five long years of battling cancer, it was finally time for him to pass on the baton, and rest.
Fourty-Eight hours later, Liz, Billy and I were back in West Linn, being lectured on the joys of Jell-o and tangerine popcicles. For the next week and a half, I got to use the skills I’d learned over the last few years, as the disease took over his body, but not his spirit. He was cracking jokes and laughing with us, all while making sure we were doing ok.
On January 12th I received an offer letter from Johns Hopkins. I had gotten the perfect job! I shared my news with Daddy as I provided his morning care, and even though he couldn’t respond, I know he was excited, although not surprised.
That afternoon, I said my final goodbye to Daddy, and he passed on to a place full of golf courses and In-N-Out, and free of cancer and chemotherapy, hospital visits and doctors appointments.
For a man who used to make me get my planner out as soon as I’d put my stuff in my room on Sunday nights, he could not have planned it any better. He got to see many people he loved and yet didn’t suffer long. Everybody seemed to get to visit him at the perfect time, and he was surrounded by extra love for weeks, not just as he passed.
For now, I’m doing okay- thank you to the many of you who have checked in and shared your condolences. I’ve been saying goodbye to my dad regularly for most of my life, and I know it won’t really hit me until I have more news to share with him, or I come home and he’s not here to host a BBQ for my friends.
TCTFO Daddy, and Just Keep Playing.
Five hours later, I walked out of the hospital feeling like I’d aced it. The manager and I had gotten along really well, and she seemed to agree with my answers to every question she asked. The other nurses on the floor seemed like me- smart, driven and eager to serve patients in the best way possible.
That afternoon, Daddy called to ask how the interview went… and then asked us to come home. After five long years of battling cancer, it was finally time for him to pass on the baton, and rest.
Fourty-Eight hours later, Liz, Billy and I were back in West Linn, being lectured on the joys of Jell-o and tangerine popcicles. For the next week and a half, I got to use the skills I’d learned over the last few years, as the disease took over his body, but not his spirit. He was cracking jokes and laughing with us, all while making sure we were doing ok.
On January 12th I received an offer letter from Johns Hopkins. I had gotten the perfect job! I shared my news with Daddy as I provided his morning care, and even though he couldn’t respond, I know he was excited, although not surprised.
That afternoon, I said my final goodbye to Daddy, and he passed on to a place full of golf courses and In-N-Out, and free of cancer and chemotherapy, hospital visits and doctors appointments.
For a man who used to make me get my planner out as soon as I’d put my stuff in my room on Sunday nights, he could not have planned it any better. He got to see many people he loved and yet didn’t suffer long. Everybody seemed to get to visit him at the perfect time, and he was surrounded by extra love for weeks, not just as he passed.
For now, I’m doing okay- thank you to the many of you who have checked in and shared your condolences. I’ve been saying goodbye to my dad regularly for most of my life, and I know it won’t really hit me until I have more news to share with him, or I come home and he’s not here to host a BBQ for my friends.
TCTFO Daddy, and Just Keep Playing.
Vickie, I am so sorry for your loss. Please know I am always here for you. I know it has been some time since we last talked. We really do need to catch up again. Hugs and lots of love to you.
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