Knowing Doesn’t Make It Easier

The ability to share something with someone is often life-changing. There’s just something that happens in that moment when you realize you aren’t alone. I’ve had that happen countless times in my life and I’m always grateful to God for each one.

Kelly Smith and I met in 2011 when I started working at Major Hospital. Looking back I can’t tell you exactly what drew me to her. But it didn’t take long to figure out she just had that impact on people. All the time.

Kelly was a peds nurse. Although I didn’t work in peds, my job put me in Kelly’s presence on a regular basis. Without exception, each and every time, she said or did something to cause me to appreciate her even more. Whether it was catching a glimpse of her with a patient, listening to her interactions with an anxious parent, or how she treated her peers, Kelly was the epitome of kindness, goodness, gentleness, love, joy, peace, patience, and faithfulness. I never once saw an exception to that.

Kelly’s battle with her health had been long. I don’t remember when I first learned of her many diagnoses (cancer over and over, etc.). But what I do remember is thinking, “Really? She never says a word. She never complains. Nothing”. So I started watching her even more closely.

Over the years she had times that her health would pull her away from work; but never for very long. Before you knew it, Kelly was back on the schedule and you were behind her in the cafeteria line. Of course, I wanted to know how she was doing. And in true Kelly fashion, she made it all seem so insignificant. That wasn’t really important. She would steer the conversation to the latest thing she and her husband had planted or some new project they were undertaking. There was no time or energy spent in pity or “what ifs”.

The end of 2019 and the beginning of 2020 I was getting chemo and radiation subsequent to my surgery. From the very first treatment, I was incredibly sick. But the second treatment worked overtime on me. I couldn’t stop puking and I lost 13 pounds in less than a week. My oncologist called ahead to the hospital and told them I was coming in. I cried and asked God to please just take care of it (whatever that meant). I was exhausted and beyond the ability to think clearly.

In the back of my mind I knew that Kelly might be working that night (it was a unit that covered adults and peds). But that seemed like a lot to hope for. With a puke bowl in my hands, I walked into that room to see the most beautiful face. My sweet friend. I literally didn’t have to say a word. She knew. She knew far better than I what I was experiencing. She did all of the standard nursing functions (i.e., checking vitals, starting my IV, drawing labs, etc.). But the part you can’t get from every nurse; that’s what helped the most. She just sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked my hair and my back. There wasn’t a long string of words to fill the space. She was just present. Fully.

Several times after that night I thanked her for…….well, being her. I had no way of conveying my gratitude outside of just telling her. It was a pivotal experience for me.

The last few years we knew Kelly’s time was growing short. But that wasn’t because anything about her changed. She continued to do what Kelly always did. She valued her family and spending time with them and she soaked up every minute she could outside. She worked until she just couldn’t, because Kelly was made to take care of people.

On Saturday, my sweet friend breathed her last. And even though we knew the day was coming, it didn’t make it any easier. The tremendous void can be felt. I will miss my friend. I am ever so thankful to God for sending me the sweet gift of Kelly. To be one who walks through this life with resilience and a keen awareness of those in our path is something we should all strive to be. Kelly, thank you for setting the bar so high. I love you, my friend.

I Peter 4:10 ~ As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace….