(Sunday April 4, 2010)
“I Got My Kiss”
We made our first visit to Moffitt Cancer Center on December 22, 2009. A lot has happened in the last 3 ½ months.
I remember that first day well. We drove to the Gold valet parking lot. It was a busy place. Young men were parking and retrieving cars. Patra and I got out of our car, gave a young man our keys and walked into the building.
We walked into a large reception area and I noticed a large number of wheelchairs. It was obvious that many of the people entering and leaving were very sick. They had cancer. Many had lost their hair from chemotherapy. The reality of my situation hit me. “That is going to be me.” At that moment I was not ready to fully accept the reality. “Maybe there was a mistake in my diagnosis. Maybe there was a new type of treatment (without side effects) for the particular cancer I had.”
I remember the woman at the information desk where we checked in. “Sweetie, how can I help you?” I typically do not like servers at restaurants, particularly young people, who call me “Sweetie.” It often seems forced and insincere. But this was a natural, sincere offer of help. It was as if she recognized me, knew my situation, and understood my feelings.
(Do you remember “Alice,” a television show about 30 years ago where Alice worked at Mel’s Diner with Flo?) This woman immediately reminded me of “Flo.” It was obvious she loved her job and was very good at it. She has never met a person she didn’t know, or a patient she didn’t like. And you couldn’t not like her.
While still in the lobby I heard her call out to a patient who was leaving the building. She ran from the Information Desk to the door and leaned over and kissed the patient and gave her a hug.
My honest thought at the time was not positive. “I am not going to be a patient here long enough for everyone to know me and to be personal friends with all of the employees.”
Well, after many trips to Moffitt beginning that day, I was hospitalized there for the bone marrow transplant from Tuesday, February 23, 2010 until Wednesday, March 24, 2010. After being released from the hospital, there were daily trips to the BMT treatment center until we were allowed to go home last Friday.
I almost always saw “Flo.” I would usually wave or say “hi” as I proceeded to my appointment. Sometimes I was sick and in one of the wheelchairs and Patra would push me past the information desk.
Last Friday, the last thing I had to do before we could leave was get my line/catheter/port removed. That was done in the G.I. unit on the first floor between the reception area and the main hospital. Basically, after giving me some numbing shots, the doctor grabbed hold of the plastic tubing in my chest and ripped it out. I still get faint thinking about what he did. They gave me an ice bag and told me to hold it on my chest. Patra needed to fill one more prescription at the pharmacy before we could leave, so I sat in a chair in the hallway of the hospital outside the G.I. unit.
After having just had the removal procedure, and while sitting there holding the ice bag on my chest, “Flo” walked by on her way to lunch. I smiled as she passed by. When she saw me sitting there, she stopped.
“How are you?”
“I’m going home today.”
“How wonderful. God bless you,” she said as she quickly walked over to where I was sitting. “That is great news. You will be home for Easter. Don’t you come back to see us too often. Take care of yourself.” And then, she bent over, grabbed my face and kissed me on the cheek. “God bless you, Sweetie.”
In an instant I realized how much I had changed since December 22. You may find this hard to believe, but I am proud of my bald head. I am a cancer patient. I look at my fellow cancer patients, especially the new ones, in a different way. I have so much compassion for them, and I am honored to be identified with them. I pray that their treatments will go as smoothly as possible and that their treatment will be effective.
More than anything, I’m glad I got my kiss. I only wish it had been in the lobby so more people would have seen it.
I do have an assignment for myself as we return to Moffitt this week. I must find out her real name.
I sure hope it’s “Flo.” That would be another way she would cheer my heart. I only hope I am half as effective at any ministry God gives me as she is at hers.
Bob
We made our first visit to Moffitt Cancer Center on December 22, 2009. A lot has happened in the last 3 ½ months.
I remember that first day well. We drove to the Gold valet parking lot. It was a busy place. Young men were parking and retrieving cars. Patra and I got out of our car, gave a young man our keys and walked into the building.
We walked into a large reception area and I noticed a large number of wheelchairs. It was obvious that many of the people entering and leaving were very sick. They had cancer. Many had lost their hair from chemotherapy. The reality of my situation hit me. “That is going to be me.” At that moment I was not ready to fully accept the reality. “Maybe there was a mistake in my diagnosis. Maybe there was a new type of treatment (without side effects) for the particular cancer I had.”
I remember the woman at the information desk where we checked in. “Sweetie, how can I help you?” I typically do not like servers at restaurants, particularly young people, who call me “Sweetie.” It often seems forced and insincere. But this was a natural, sincere offer of help. It was as if she recognized me, knew my situation, and understood my feelings.
(Do you remember “Alice,” a television show about 30 years ago where Alice worked at Mel’s Diner with Flo?) This woman immediately reminded me of “Flo.” It was obvious she loved her job and was very good at it. She has never met a person she didn’t know, or a patient she didn’t like. And you couldn’t not like her.
While still in the lobby I heard her call out to a patient who was leaving the building. She ran from the Information Desk to the door and leaned over and kissed the patient and gave her a hug.
My honest thought at the time was not positive. “I am not going to be a patient here long enough for everyone to know me and to be personal friends with all of the employees.”
Well, after many trips to Moffitt beginning that day, I was hospitalized there for the bone marrow transplant from Tuesday, February 23, 2010 until Wednesday, March 24, 2010. After being released from the hospital, there were daily trips to the BMT treatment center until we were allowed to go home last Friday.
I almost always saw “Flo.” I would usually wave or say “hi” as I proceeded to my appointment. Sometimes I was sick and in one of the wheelchairs and Patra would push me past the information desk.
Last Friday, the last thing I had to do before we could leave was get my line/catheter/port removed. That was done in the G.I. unit on the first floor between the reception area and the main hospital. Basically, after giving me some numbing shots, the doctor grabbed hold of the plastic tubing in my chest and ripped it out. I still get faint thinking about what he did. They gave me an ice bag and told me to hold it on my chest. Patra needed to fill one more prescription at the pharmacy before we could leave, so I sat in a chair in the hallway of the hospital outside the G.I. unit.
After having just had the removal procedure, and while sitting there holding the ice bag on my chest, “Flo” walked by on her way to lunch. I smiled as she passed by. When she saw me sitting there, she stopped.
“How are you?”
“I’m going home today.”
“How wonderful. God bless you,” she said as she quickly walked over to where I was sitting. “That is great news. You will be home for Easter. Don’t you come back to see us too often. Take care of yourself.” And then, she bent over, grabbed my face and kissed me on the cheek. “God bless you, Sweetie.”
In an instant I realized how much I had changed since December 22. You may find this hard to believe, but I am proud of my bald head. I am a cancer patient. I look at my fellow cancer patients, especially the new ones, in a different way. I have so much compassion for them, and I am honored to be identified with them. I pray that their treatments will go as smoothly as possible and that their treatment will be effective.
More than anything, I’m glad I got my kiss. I only wish it had been in the lobby so more people would have seen it.
I do have an assignment for myself as we return to Moffitt this week. I must find out her real name.
I sure hope it’s “Flo.” That would be another way she would cheer my heart. I only hope I am half as effective at any ministry God gives me as she is at hers.
Bob
Comments
I continue to pray for you. You such an encouragement to me in many ways. ~Beth Wolf
And now your "Flo" has Flo's hairstyle from Mel's diner too. All beehive like. The picture can not be removed from my mind. You must tell us her name so I can plant a new picture in my mind's eye.
But truly this post is just heart warming. Thank you for sharing, Mr. Bugg and thank you for always ministering to my heart by just being bold and transparent with your words. And always, always making me smile through tears.
Take good care of yourselves!
Ted & Carol W
How great to have those working at the cancer center who really do care.
We are so happy that you had Easter with your family.
We continue to pray and praise!!!
Love you,
Lex and Linda
After noticing one of my comments didnt post a couple of weeks ago, I started looking back and think there were several that didn't post. Was so disappointed because I just wanted to let you all know I was thinking and praying for you everyday. -- Have no idea where those comments could have gone. So happy to hear all this good news today. Enjoy your home and your family -- and hopefully some peaceful,uninterrupted rest. Love to all, Mary Lib
Still praying for ya'll,
Linda Hyde
I want to send you my heart felt thanks for the wonderful letter you wrote on your blog about your experience at Moffitt and me. It was sent to my boss and she forwarded it to many of my co-workers. I cried when I read your story. You are truly filled with Gods spirit and love. He has a wonderful way of bringing his children together.
The day I stopped to talk to you and give you your Kiss was all from my heart. God gave me a compassionate and loving heart. He gives us all a special gift. Thankfully I am able to use my gift every day at Moffitt. I too am a twelve year colon cancer survivor. I was in stage four when I was diagnosed and I am a miracle to be alive. Every day is a blessed day to me and a gift. If I can make one patient a day feel special that is my way of giving back.
I am so glad that your treatment is going well. I will keep you in my prayers every day. I will look forward to seeing you and your wife this Friday. my real name is Margie, but please call me Flo. I consider that a compliment.
May God bless and keep you always.
Margie Schwerdt
P.S
With your wife’s permission I will give you your next Kiss here in the lobby for every one to see.
I want to send you my heart felt thanks for the wonderful letter you wrote on your blog about your experience at Moffitt and me. It was sent to my boss and she forwarded it to many of my co-workers. I cried when I read your story. You are truly filled with Gods spirit and love. He has a wonderful way of bringing his children together.
The day I stopped to talk to you and give you your Kiss was all from my heart. God gave me a compassionate and loving heart. He gives us all a special gift. Thankfully I am able to use my gift every day at Moffitt. I too am a twelve year colon cancer survivor. I was in stage four when I was diagnosed and I am a miracle to be alive. Every day is a blessed day to me and a gift. If I can make one patient a day feel special that is my way of giving back.
I am so glad that your treatment is going well. I will keep you in my prayers every day. I will look forward to seeing you and your wife this Friday. my real name is Margie, but please call me Flo. I consider that a compliment.
May God bless and keep you always.
Margie Schwerdt
P.S
With your wife’s permission I will give you your next Kiss here in the lobby for every one to see.