She was a resident/patient

at Christian City Hospice when I met her. She was dying and knew it. I

will never forget her.

It was one of the most enjoyable

I hesitate to use that word but it was indeed one of the most enjoyable

interviews I have ever done. She was so real, so at peace, so thankful

for so many things.

After our first visit she wanted

to talk to me a second time. She wanted to be sure I remembered to tell

the doctors, "Fifteen minutes is not long enough."

If there had been any anger

or blame, she had worked through it and let it go by the time we met.

I know they say that anger is just one stage and that eventually acceptance

and peace comes. Once again "they" don't always know what they

are talking about.

So, when one is lucky enough

to encounter those rare individuals who face life's toughest battles and

do go out with a spirit of consuming acceptance and peace, you don't forget

them.

Trust me, you can't forget

them. They become the shining lights, the beacons in the dark for the

rest of us. We only hope we can know their kind of calm and joy and total

peace in the wake of pain, misery, grief and/or impending death.

Now, let me tell you why she

told me to tell the doctors, "Fifteen minutes is not long enough."

She was in her late fifties.

She had a basketful of assorted ailments. There was her high blood pressure

and diabetes and the arthritic pain that had to be discussed. There were

refills for routine medications that had to be written. There was limited

time with the doctors.

Being military, there was always

a different doctor who she had to see. No chance to have a relationship

with a physician. "You need to have a relationship with your physician,"

she said. "You need to know him or her and they need to know you."

"But even if you do understand

one another, fifteen minutes still is not enough time especially when

the doctor is interrupted repeatedly while he is in the room with you.

"And that's another thing," she stressed. "Just because

they are in the room does not mean they are really there. Their mind can

be somewhere else. Sometimes you can tell. Sometimes you can't, but they

are only human."

Such was her gentle and forgiving

spirit. "They are only human..."

She talked of a relative who

died angry. Full of blame. Never letting go of all the "Why me?"

questions. "Why not me?" she asked.

I still can hear her voice.

After more than ten years I still can hear her say, "Why not me?"

And I still can hear her say,

"Tell the doctors fifteen minutes is not long enough."

But there was more. She told

me to tell the patient (that would be you and me) to keep their own records.

Keep copies of all reports of blood tests, diagnostic procedures, surgical

reports, etc. And when we go to visit our doctor she said we must take

notes with us.

Now some doctors appreciate

the note. Others grimace when they see you pull it out. Tough! The note

is necessary. Those interruptions can disrupt your train of thought, too.

It can keep both you and the physician on track.

You might want to take two

copies. Give the doctor one and keep yours. Go over the list together.

Make notes as you talk. You will forget what is said if you do not.

She carried a list. But the

indigestion was always at the bottom of it and fifteen minutes was never

enough time to get to the bottom.

The gently lady of whom I speak

today spoke of much. She talked about family and friends. About today

and tomorrow. Oh, yes, that was another thing. She still saw value in

her ever day life. She had hope for the future and joy for the present

moment.

What a shining example she

was for me. I remember her. I'm trying, but I'm not like her yet. I'm

angry. I am not full of acceptance or peace. My sister is very sick. She

needed more than fifteen minutes a long time ago that she didn't get.

Time will tell if it is too late for the medical professionals to make

up for that lost time. Lost time... what a strange term.