I met John several years ago while making a home visit in the rural area of Kenya. It is John who inspired the dream of opening a palliative care center/hospice house. A dream that is getting closer to becoming a reality.
For John
I still remember his face
smooth as butter, rich and dark as melted chocolate, swirled with a touch of caramel
I still remember his smile
easy, despite an occasional pain-induced grimace
teeth lined up like pearl buttons gleaming against the coffee dark skin
I still remember his tall muscular frame
from years of being a soccer coach
a frame morphing into lankiness, but still too big and too long
for the wood framed couch to hold
I still remember the concrete floor
upon which the couch and the man lay
the tininess and tidiness of it all
oversized chairs flank the couch and coffee table
an outdated calendar and a photo of the Kenya president are adhered to the concrete walls
I still remember the pale yellow card from the clinic
holding the fate of this strapping man
“(L) BRST CA”…
(Left breast cancer)
I still remember the dread
that shot through my body when I lifted his black Adidas T-shirt
and gently removed the sticky white cotton, cross-ribbed gauze
from his left breast
I still remember the smell
(and it embarrassed him as if the offensive odor was his fault).
I still remember bathing the wound
no, I remember bathing the massof wounds and bulging tumor
ever so slightly with filtered water
applying a fresh clean bandage
I still remember his words
“sister, I am dying”
and the gentle nod of my head as he clenched my hand
closing his eyes as I offered prayers with him
I remember the righteous anger that rose in me
for the lack
lack of resources
lack of treatments
lack of something as simple and necessary as pain meds
I still remember my boldness at the pharmacy
writing a prescription for pain meds on a piece of scrap paper
signing my name with my R.N after it
awarding me a power I didn’t know I held
I still remember the fear of being
Handcuffed and put in jail
despite assurances that I was free to write such things in Kenya
I remember and cling to his words on my final visit
“safe journey home sister”
“I will pray for you”
I still remember the email a few months later
“John has died”
and the sorrow that settled in my breast like a sharp, shooting dagger
Love and Always Mercy,
Pamela
To donate:
Make checks out to Holy Cross Lutheran Church
Earmark them for Kenya
Holy Cross Lutheran Church
4701 Grove St.
Rocklin, CA 95677
via Always Mercy http://bit.ly/2WCkAYu