Perspective

The word perspective comes up frequently with the people that I talk with most and interact with most on social media. Many people have told me that they appreciate my perspective on life or many situations I encounter in my daily journey. Frankly, it hasn't always been this way. There have been lots of times in life where my perspective stunk. But, it is a skill that I have worked on immensely over the years. Some days my perspective still is not the best. But, most days, I can more clearly see when my perspective is not where it should be.

Like so much in my life, my perspective on so many things has changed in learning to live as Elise's father. Early in Elise's cancer treatment I can recall there being a family down the hall that was really struggling with the behavior of their child who was also undergoing cancer treatment. I never met that family and I have always regretted not going to talk with the dad. But, at the time, I can admit that I was not in a place to comfort anyone or provide any kind of assistance. One afternoon the dad was fed up and started spanking his child. I was mortified! Now don't get me wrong, spanking was a part of my childhood and had been a part of Elise's childhood before cancer as well. But, the thought of putting my hands on my child, who was fighting something far greater than anything we could understand, just didn't compute for me. Now, 11 years later, that day is still etched into my brain. I made a conscious decision at that time that I was not going to ever spank Elise again. There simply had to be another way to get through to her, and ultimately her to get through to me. My perspective changed.

After treatment and Elise's diagnosis of a seizure disorder, we were faced with trying to find a bed for her that would keep her safe at night and also make life easier for us. In our quest to learn more about beds, our social worker made contact with several families that might be able to provide some insight to us. As I was talking with one of the mom's on the phone, we each shared a bit about our child. She told me about her daughter with a regressive seizure disorder that would eventually lead to her losing her life. They were three years in to the five years of life time span she was given. She was telling me about how things had been getting much worse over the past several months and they were really starting to see some signs that the end was getting closer than they would have liked. It was truly a heartbreaking story for me. When I was done telling her a bit of Elise's story she said, "I just don't know how you guys do it. It sounds so hard." While yes it was hard, I was dumbfounded by her saying that to me. This mother, whose daughter was fading away in front of her eyes, couldn't comprehend how WE were coping. In my mind, we were no comparison to the struggles that she and her family were facing. Again, it was all about perspective.

As I sit in Elise's room during this hospital stay, and lay next to the window at night, not a day has gone by where there are not sirens, helicopters coming in with an emergency case, and code blue alarms in the hospital. There are A LOT of urgent needs out there, and A LOT of people in a similar or worse boat than we are in. In the first several days of Elise's cancer diagnosis, we were sent down to the cardiology clinic for them to do some baseline testing on Elise's heart. That would give them information about where "normal" should be for her as treatment, and later post treatment, progressed. While we were in a room waiting on the tech to get started with us, someone came in the door and said, "We need this room now. Would you all please grab your things and wait in the hallway?" Dumbfounded, we gathered our things and moved outside. Quickly a couple of people came down the hallway carrying this little body with two terrified looking parents in tow. About three minutes later the code blue alarm was sounded and that room was full of a whole team of people. We don't really know what ever came of that family, but that experience will live with me forever. While we were reeling from a new cancer diagnosis, this family was losing their child right in front of their very eyes. I learned in that moment to be thankful for what was in front of me.

 As I have thought about this over the years, I think it boils down to control. If there is one thing I have learned more deeply than anything else, it is how little control we truly have over anything. I am a type A personality which means I want everything to be "just so". In order for things to be "just so", you have to control as much as possible. Otherwise, my "just so" and your "just so" aren't too likely to mesh. So, if I want things to be a certain way, then I need to control as many of the variables as possible. I have learned how to understand which variables are truly important and which ones are not. No matter how hard I have tried, Elise has no interest in my "just so" desires. Even a type A personality can learn to be more laid back. In the end, what really matters? We all have work frustrations, family frustrations, marital frustrations, etc. Each day I try and challenge myself to shift my perspective to what truly matters. I challenge all of you to do the same. You will find it gets easier over time. Someone is always in a place that could benefit from your shifted perspective.