There was a funeral here last week. Laura, a local midwife, died after struggling against cancer for years.
Among those delivering eulogies were the parents of some of the children whose births she’d attended. One man told of his panic as he watched his child emerging blue from lack of oxygen.
He said Laura intuitively turned to him, sensing that he would be distressed. In a calm voice she said, “Call your daughter into the world.” Softly he began calling his child’s name and as he did, the baby’s skin turned from blue to pink.
Coincidence? Probably. An experienced midwife using a technique to calm a nervous father? Almost assuredly.
More to the point, Laura’s gift – beyond her medical competence – was to call attention to the fact that there is more that goes on in a maternity ward than just sterile gowns and beeping monitors. It’s the beginning of a profound relationship.
In fact, every trip to the hospital – birth, injury, illness or death – should recall us to our profound relationships and core values. Instead, we worry about insurance and bankruptcy.
Last week, the day after the funeral a colleague received a call at work from her doctor’s office to let her know that prescriptions can’t go through until the insurance company signs off on them. The doctor’s staff apologized for the inconvenience.
Another colleague was suddenly called out of state when her mother was taken ill. It’s hard enough to worry about loved ones without a layer of bureaucratic hassle weighing you down.
A few days earlier, the same colleague and I had a conversation about famous last words. Oddly, they all came from the era before people started fretting about health care. For example:
Humphrey Bogart – “I should have never switched from scotch to martinis.”
Oscar Wilde – “Either that wallpaper goes or I do.”
Karl Marx (upon being asked for his last words) – “Go on, get out! Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough already!”
Johann Goethe – “More light.”
The only recent example – and perhaps the best – is from 2007, but came from Alex the parrot, who had a vocabulary of over 100 words and revolutionized the way we think about animal intelligence. The night before he was found dead in his cage, he said to his researcher:
First and Last Words
There was a funeral here last week. Laura, a local midwife, died after struggling against cancer for years.
Among those delivering eulogies were the parents of some of the children whose births she’d attended. One man told of his panic as he watched his child emerging blue from lack of oxygen.
He said Laura intuitively turned to him, sensing that he would be distressed. In a calm voice she said, “Call your daughter into the world.” Softly he began calling his child’s name and as he did, the baby’s skin turned from blue to pink.
Coincidence? Probably. An experienced midwife using a technique to calm a nervous father? Almost assuredly.
More to the point, Laura’s gift – beyond her medical competence – was to call attention to the fact that there is more that goes on in a maternity ward than just sterile gowns and beeping monitors. It’s the beginning of a profound relationship.
In fact, every trip to the hospital – birth, injury, illness or death – should recall us to our profound relationships and core values. Instead, we worry about insurance and bankruptcy.
Last week, the day after the funeral a colleague received a call at work from her doctor’s office to let her know that prescriptions can’t go through until the insurance company signs off on them. The doctor’s staff apologized for the inconvenience.
Another colleague was suddenly called out of state when her mother was taken ill. It’s hard enough to worry about loved ones without a layer of bureaucratic hassle weighing you down.
A few days earlier, the same colleague and I had a conversation about famous last words. Oddly, they all came from the era before people started fretting about health care. For example:
Humphrey Bogart – “I should have never switched from scotch to martinis.”
Oscar Wilde – “Either that wallpaper goes or I do.”
Karl Marx (upon being asked for his last words) – “Go on, get out! Last words are for fools who haven’t said enough already!”
Johann Goethe – “More light.”
The only recent example – and perhaps the best – is from 2007, but came from Alex the parrot, who had a vocabulary of over 100 words and revolutionized the way we think about animal intelligence. The night before he was found dead in his cage, he said to his researcher:
“You be good. See you tomorrow. I love you.”
© Mark Floegel, 2009