On Hummingbirds and Heroes

Sometimes lovely things do come in small packages—a nugget of gold, a sparkling diamond.  They form quietly deep inside the earth out of sight and under pressure, but when they emerge, they dazzle our eyes with their rarity and everlasting splendor. In nature, small things like honey bees, butterflies and hummingbirds busy themselves with making the world more beautiful and more magical.

I have a petite and dear friend whose rare, beautiful and lasting good nature were formed out of my sight long before I met her.  She grew up under the pressure of a mother’s deterioration from multiple sclerosis and a father’s sometimes bizarre behavior due to an unnamed illness.  She grew up a caregiver with her dreams of becoming an engineer denied.  She became a nurse instead and cared for people inside and outside her home for most of her life.  In the irony and tragedy of life, at the peak of her career, my friend was diagnosed with Huntington’s Disease, a neurodegenerative illness that causes involuntary movements leading to problems with speech, mobility, and independence, the same disease that accounted for her father’s strange behaviors. 

When the news of this terrible inheritance came, she called me and said, “I really need a friend right now.”  Already a close colleague, I eagerly signed on for the lifetime friendship membership program.  We spent a few years regularly meeting up for movies and lunches out, then COVID came along and we had to restrict our activities for her safety.  By the time the epidemic passed, her condition was such that our outings were no longer possible.  Now, we email throughout the week. Sometimes she texts me photos of her grandchildren. She stays engaged with others through social media, listens to hours of audio books, and watches DVDs that I send to her—a way to keep taking her to the movies.

She has a matter-of-fact acceptance of the bombs life throws, and yet, as a nurse, she was always aware of the patients’ fears, coming birthdays, anniversaries, and last wishes.  We did some amazing things for our patients because of her insights, insights that came from her own life experiences.  Once, when we were called to the death of a patient in a long-term care facility, she and I stepped out into the hallway to allow the family to gather around the bedside.  Inside the room, the family members talked and laughed about what the deceased was probably already busy doing in heaven.  My friend looked at me and quietly said, “My mother is probably running.”  Her unforgettable words gripped my heart.  I wondered, did she think of her mother every time she saw a patient? Her own sorrows informed her practice as a nurse and shaped her gentle, accepting, good nature, her quiet competence, and her desire to see her patients’ wishes granted. 

Like a nugget of gold or a sparkling diamond, Susan is a rare and beautiful creation formed from a life under pressure.  Like a hummingbird, Susan is petite in stature and delicate in features. She works very hard to stay in one place now, but regardless of circumstances, she always seems to know how to pull the simple, sweet nectar from life.  I wish to be more like her.

You are my hero, Susan.  This one is for you!