Hold Someone's Hand

I remember it well. I had just returned from work in my pantsuit nurse's uniform. Our visiting friends had prepared a wonderful supper, and we were just waiting for the potatoes to finish cooking. Suddenly I head a familiar sound from the kitchen - it sounded like the potatoes were boiling over. I raced to the kitchen, but was surprised to see that the potatoes were cooking in my pressure cooker, but the gauge was not on the top, nor were the handles locked. Flames shot up around the pot from the potato water on the electric burner. What to do?

I made a quick decision. The baking soda was in the cupboard behind the flames, and the knob to turn off the stove was behind them. So I reached for the handles and ever-so-gently slid the pot off the burner. But as I got it to the center of the stove, the top blew off, and hot potato water and cooked potatoes landed on me - both hands, my tummy and both thighs. Of course, I let out a war hoop! Ron ran to the bathroom and turned on cold water in the shower, I stripped, getting off those nylon stockings and pants, and headed for the shower. I stood there under the frigid water and watched the skin roll off my body. The pain was beyond anything I had ever experienced.

We wrapped me in a clean sheet and headed for the emergency room where the doctor I worked for and our family doctor awaited our arrival. After a whole lot of pain medication and an IV inserted, the three hour process of debreedment began. And every morning for a week, that process was repeated. My dear visiting friend, who HATES the sight of blood and most medical stuff, was with me for the morning ordeal every day. She held my hand, handed things to the doctor, and was a great nurse and comfort to me.

Holding someones hand in times of distress or pain, is a great blessing. Poor Ron, was given the daunting task of putting silver nitrate on the open wounds after that first week. That was for the purpose of creating a scab, under which the skin could rebuild itself, leaving me with absolutely no scars. Not only did he hold my hand, but he cried along with me as he applied the medication. It burned as bad or worse than the original burn!

What a comfort and an assurance to have special someones who can hold our hand, share our pain or sorrow, give us chicken soup, or rub our feet or aching back in our times of need. Physical touch is healing in itself, but when there is love behind it, the touch is even more beneficial. Actually, touch send out endorphins

Do you have a special someone who holds your hand when you are in need? If you don't, seek out a friend or a family member who is happy to do that for you. And by the way, you can be that hand to hold for someone else too!

Getting to Five

I read a wonderful book this past week. As a matter of fact, I read it in two days! It was one of those books that just talks to you from it's shelf. I found it, believe it or not, in a discount store. "Buy that book," I kept hearing in my ear. So I picked it up and put it back three times, and finally listened to the voice in my head.

The title of the book is: If I Get to Five - What Children Can Teach Us About Courage and Character. It was written by Dr. Fred Epstein, a neurologist and neurosurgeon. It tells of his life as a pediatric neurosurgeon at New York University's Hospital and now at Beth Israel Hospital in Manhattan. Throughout his career, Dr. Epstein has pioneered new techniques for excizing brain and spinal chord tumors, and has operated on children of all ages and in all stages of disease; children from all corners of the globe. When other physicians would say, "Take your child home to die. There is nothing we can do for him," Dr. Epstein, disagreeing with the prognosis, has performed life-saving procedures successfully.

"We tend to think of children as fragile, little people," says Dr. Fred Epstein. "To me, they're giants." If I Get to Five is a tribute to the hidden strengths of childhood and the unstoppable life force that dwells within each of us.

Five years ago, Dr. Epstein suffered a traumatic brain injury and faced a daunting rehabilitation. He says that the advice of the children he'd saved helped illuminate his own path to recovery. Six of the lessons he had learned from the children he has cared for are the titles of the chapters. They are:

• Hold Someone's Hand
• Live in the Moment
• Face Your Fears
• Believe in Miracles
• Play to Your Strengths
• Love Without Boundaries

The lessons he learned from the children sound like great mottos to me! Perhaps in future blogs we'll look at them, one by one. Until then, see if you can find this good book. You'll cry a bit, laugh a bit, and be inspired a whole lot! It's a "Good for the Soul" book, in my opinion.

So fix a cuppa' tea and curl up with an uplifting, awe-inspiring book! You'll be glad you did.

More blogs at http://www.yourlri.com/blog.cfm