Dignity

It was Christmastime in NYC. Visiting the city for the very first time, we were all excited at each new sight. Decked out for Christmas, we found Tiffany's, Radio City Music Hall, the tree at Rockefeller Center, the theatre district, all amazing and spectacular.

My youngest daughter and I, just dying to see a real Broadway play, got first row seats for RENT. That play would not have been my first choice, however as mother's often do, I let my child choose, and being nineteen, she chose the play about AIDS and gays and dying and desperate people. Of course going into the theatre, I was unaware of the plot.

The play was superbly done! The acting and the music were awesome. The story was very thought provoking. Kelsey and I enjoyed it thoroughly, however I was moved to tears at the song about dignity.

"Will I lose my dignity

will someone care

will I wake tomorrow

from this nightmare."

I was moved to tears as my mind was flooded with the many times that I have lost my personal dignity during my medical misadventures. I have been helpless--totally helpless. I have thought I was in a nightmare that might never end.

During one hospitalization I remember a situation where I was on complete bed rest and had just had surgery on my hip for the second time in a week. I was wearing a hideous hip brace which kept me from bending at the waist and kept my legs separated.

It was during my bath, in bed, with the aide assisting me, that my pastor knocked on the door. The aide, without thinking said, "Come in." I don't know what was she thinking. There I was on my side (with my back side facing the door) in a position with one leg held stiffly up in the air by the brace and of course, I was totally naked.

Picture in your mind's eye how you would feel if this had happened to you. Words cannot describe how you might feel.

Having that episode, and many others, swimming through my mind, I continued to watch the play with interest. Upon leaving the theatre the only song going through my mind was the refrain, "Will I lose my dignity?"

Why would that now be on my mind while I was supposed to be having the time of my life on vacation, visiting my son and his wife, during Christmas week?

The next day Kelsey and I were on a subway train together, excited and heading to another tourist destination. We happened to sit facing a man who had lost his dignity. He was dressed poorly, with his head hanging between his legs. Candy wrappers and food were scattered on the floor in front of him. He was apparently high on something (at least, that is what I assumed) and he dozed intermittently. When he awoke he would take a bite of food, and then he would doze again and the food, half eaten, would drop to the floor.

Picture in your mind's eye how you would feel if you were this man. Words could not describe how you might feel.

The man, and the two of us were seated at the rear of the car. Other people would enter and exit the car just next to us. If they caught a glimpse of the man, they quickly turned away from the sight of him. Many people, like us, were tourists. One family with a school-aged child were particularly well-dressed. From my vantage point it was easy to watch people's reactions. In this case, as soon as the mother saw the man she quickly shielded her child from the sight of him and turned away herself.

The refrain from the play continued to play through my mind. I began praying for the man. I still pray for the man, whenever he comes across my mind. For me, that is every time I think of our trip, and every time I see a movie or tv program set in New York City. In fact, I know that I will never forget "the man on the subway train."

It was Christmas week in NYC. I visited the city to see the sights I had long heard about. I visited Queens to see my son. I went to a play just for fun. But what I learned has left a lasting impression on me.

I realize that although I have been embarrassed many times, I have not lost my dignity to any degree that even comes close to that of the man on the subway train. My heart actually aches even now, over a year later, as I sit here writing, when I think of him.

I could pontificate now, but for what purpose. You have either felt my emotions or you have not.

My only advice tonight, is to be ready to grow whenever one of life's great lessons barges into your life unexpectedly.