I Will Pray For You
"I will pray for you." I recently heard these words spoken to me more than once. "I will pray for you." When first spoken, my eyes opened just a fraction. I could feel the blood rushing through my body and hear a kind of whooshing sound in my ears. I felt alarmed. I thought what do you know that I don't? What are you seeing on that screen that I have not been informed about? I had these questions pop into my head in a split second but I was not going to ask them. I sat there silent for just a moment then I said, "Thank you." I looked at the woman who spoke them. A young physician's assistant who had a skull cap on. When I first saw her, I thought that she must be receiving treatment that causes hair loss. I did not see any hair-just this gray winter cap on her head. She was very friendly. She was very efficient. She was very nice. She then left the cubicle after telling me what would happen next. But, before I heard that statement-"I will pray for you"-the nurse who had taken my vitals and asked me those endless questions they ask confirming who you say you are, also asked one that already had me alarmed. "They found this on a mammogram?"
I was at a local hospital. I have a lot of memories being at this hospital. I was born in this hospital, as was my mother. My mother walked to this hospital to have all of her children. My sisters became nurses here. I had surgery at this hospital as a child. Both my parents died in this hospital. And now I was being told, "I will pray for you."
I was taken to that place that women don't want to go to-at least my thoughts are that I would like to be anywhere else but there. You just want to turn around and go back out the door and keep walking, but you reluctantly tag along trying to make small conversation when each step takes you to that place. That place is the women's part of the hospital as I refer to it as. It's always quiet there. It has always struck me how quiet it is. Generally, there are no more than two other people around that area where they do mammograms. I had just been there two weeks prior. This time, it was for something different; something that I had not had done before, so I really was walking into the unknown. I had been told what to expect, but until you experience it, it is the unknown.
I am usually calm when it comes to stuff like this. I try to act appropriately. I am not going to cry and have hysterics or not be nice to these people who are only trying to help. And they are wonderful people who are kind, caring, and compassionate who truly don't want you to be there either. We all talk about mundane things while waiting for the doctor to appear. For those moments, you are the sole focus of people you don't know. People you may never see again. Some, by telling you they have gone through the exact procedure. You share stories of your beloved pets. They are women-you have a bond.
A couple hours later-the nurse is finishing up making sure nothing else is needed before I leave. Changing my bandage again, giving me paperwork, explaining what to do and what not to do and trying to give me assurances that this may not come out bad and then I hear those words again. "I will pray for you." My heart stopped a beat. I looked at her. She was looking at me. But this time, I wanted to cry. I didn't have that startled-get me out of here feeling-as I did the first time I heard it that morning. This time, I accepted it for the reason it was said. Comfort. She didn't just say those words-she truly meant them. Because these girls-nurses, physician's assistant, ultrasound and radiographic technologists-are truly hopeful that all will be well with you. They take time to make you comfortable and help you to prepare for what could potentially be a life-changing outcome.
I am pretty sure someone has said these words to me before. When my mother died comes to mind. And you are grateful that someone takes the time to let you know they care. This time the words really held a far deeper meaning for me. These girls-these women-do this all day, every day. This stuff they do is not just a job, it's a calling. They could just be all business and want to get this over with and on to the next one. Not at all. They truly made me feel they wanted the outcome not to be a bad one.
"I will pray for you." These are five words that are truly powerful. I did not know what the outcome would be, and neither did they, but I was given confidence, that whatever it was going to be, all would be well. When I left, I felt much better than when I arrived.
And, as they so graciously prayed for, all is well.
"I will pray for you." I recently heard these words spoken to me more than once. "I will pray for you." When first spoken, my eyes opened just a fraction. I could feel the blood rushing through my body and hear a kind of whooshing sound in my ears. I felt alarmed. I thought what do you know that I don't? What are you seeing on that screen that I have not been informed about? I had these questions pop into my head in a split second but I was not going to ask them. I sat there silent for just a moment then I said, "Thank you." I looked at the woman who spoke them. A young physician's assistant who had a skull cap on. When I first saw her, I thought that she must be receiving treatment that causes hair loss. I did not see any hair-just this gray winter cap on her head. She was very friendly. She was very efficient. She was very nice. She then left the cubicle after telling me what would happen next. But, before I heard that statement-"I will pray for you"-the nurse who had taken my vitals and asked me those endless questions they ask confirming who you say you are, also asked one that already had me alarmed. "They found this on a mammogram?"
