Lyrics from my song “Angel in the Sky.”
I had a very early appointment at the hospital to prepare me for my upcoming breast cancer radiation treatment. I would get a CAT scan and tattoo markings, and my radiation was scheduled to begin in two weeks.
I was relieved that traffic was light, because I’d spent a lot of energy worrying about how much time it would take getting there. I had hardly slept, but that was probably due to the estrogen suppressant medication I was taking. I would be on it for five years and hoped I’d adjust to the side effects soon.
A rush of melancholy overwhelmed me as I drew closer to the facility. This was actually the same hospital where my son Jason had died 32 years ago. It had a specialized cardiac unit and I’d spent a lot of time there. Now it was also the only radiation center though my medical plan that served the Los Angeles area.
While waiting at a stoplight, I noticed a familiar restaurant where I used to eat when Jason was undergoing his countless procedures. I felt a lump in my throat and brushed away a few brimming tears.
I parked and was glad I had gotten there early. When I passed a sign that said “Cancer Center,” I felt a pang. The receptionist was extremely kind and validated my parking stub, which was nice.
The radiation technician patiently explained everything about this appointment. I put on a gown and was soon lying on a hard table with special cushions for my butt and legs. The metal arm holders were uncomfortable. Still, I smiled and allowed peace to fill me as the time ticked by.
When the CAT scan was finished, it was time for the tattoo. I felt a sharp sting and then it was done. In two weeks, I would return for my one week of daily radiation treatments.
As I was leaving, I couldn’t shake the emotions that were bubbling up. Only two days earlier, it had been Jason’s death anniversary – so that made sense. But then I surprised myself.
I walked over to a receptionist and asked her a quick question.
I said slowly, “I was wondering if you could tell me if a certain doctor still works here. He was my son’s former doctor.”
In my head, I truly wanted to say that he was my deceased son.
The receptionist couldn’t find him in her system. But she was persistent and told me she would look on Google. She repeated the doctor’s name and said, “Is this him?”
It was!
She wrote down a number on a scrap of paper. “Try calling this and it should connect you to his office.”
I thanked her. I was overwhelmed with emotion as I headed to my car.
I am mostly healed up from my August 23rd lumpectomy.
I came home from the appointment feeling very emotional. I took a deep breath and called the number on that scrap of paper. It went to voicemail and I left a detailed message.
A lovely crystal gift from a blogging friend shimmers next to me. I’ve been blessed to receive so much support.
A supportive card I received.
A few days later when no one returned my call, I figured it probably wasn’t the right number. It was time for me to do some research.
I could always mail this doctor a letter. I wanted to share with him that he was actually part of Jason’s story – the one that I published as a paperback book named “Beside Me Always.”
I could enclose the book with a letter to him. But I needed an address.
For thirty minutes, I was on the phone with different departments. Each one had long repetitive menus and when I’d finally reach a live person, they weren’t able to help me.
I was on my fourth call and ready to give up when a woman came on the line. I told her everything, that I hoped to reach this wonderful cardiologist who had helped me through the five difficult years that Jason suffered with his congenital heart issues.
She said gently, “I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do. I’ll send him a message to call you.”
I thanked her profusely and waited. I heard clicking as she rapidly typed a message. “I’m going to read this back to you,” she said.
“I have a woman here that would like to connect with you. She says you took care of her son who passed away 32 years ago. You even spoke at his funeral. There is much that she would like to share, including the fact that she helps other grieving people.”
She finished reading and told me she was crying. Tears were pouring down my cheeks and I couldn’t hold back my choking sobs. I tried to speak and it was a garbled mess.
It was unbelievable to me. Here I was crying on the phone with a total stranger.
I cleared my throat and blew my nose. I said “I just wish I’d thought to contact him sooner. I gave him a painting one month after Jason died – and that was the last time I saw him.”
I gave the original painting for this magazine cover to Jason’s cardiologist.
We both struggled to find composure and then she asked if she could share a similar story with me. For another twenty minutes we conversed and it was incredibly touching.
After this phone call, I wondered how it would be to speak with this wonderful doctor. Hopefully, it would happen. It would be a beautiful story that I looked forward to writing.
This experience showed me how profoundly Jason continued to influence my life. His healing magic surrounded me.
The title for this blog post is a lyric line from my song “Angel in the Sky.” Recently, I released an album with a new vocal version for that song. Clicking on this image is a link.