Snow Pictures

by Kevin Deeny

  “After several similar attacks, I was able to avoid panic and reliably control my heart rate and breathing. Although it’s taken a while, I have control now, and asthma no longer affects me. I thought about what I went through and how I was able to improve my condition, and I realized that there is some kind of process involved and step 1 of that process is to give up fear.”

  “It amazed me that thinking could affect the function of my body, and as usual, I did a lot of reading to discover what is known about this. I discovered that there is a lot of information out there that discusses all kinds of techniques, but what amazed me the most was that no one teaches this stuff to us in school. Why?”

  “The ‘color’ thing I did with Will is pretty much the same technique I used, but visualizing colors can be easier for kids. It’s a way of focusing their attention without saying so. I’ve used this myself to get rid of headaches; I see the pain as a red color, which I change to blue every time my heart beats. It takes about 10 minutes, but I can usually push it away. With Will, he feels lousy after treatment and sees that feeling as a grey color. He focusses on surrounding himself in a golden light that pushes the grey away. He often says he feels stronger and has more energy afterward. He can do this himself now, but when I visit, he likes to get a kick start.”

  “Why did you need to place your hands on him if this just involves thinking, especially if he can do this himself?”

  “That’s a good point and something I’m trying to understand myself. I noticed that when I do, my hands get warmer and something flows from me or through me to Will. I assume it’s some form of energy and I couldn’t begin to tell you why or how it works. I’m still trying to figure that out.”

  They sat together without speaking. Each thought about how this all fits into the concept of the complex world and were both uncomfortable and a little excited at the same time. Marcus and Rosalind both understood that this experience was at the outer edges of understanding and acceptance. Marcus had recognized that for a long time and realized the danger in talking about it, particularly with someone he cared about. He also knew that it was out of his control now; it would be up to Rosalind how or if they moved forward. He felt relieved that now someone else knew, but he also felt a little melancholy about the uncertainty of their relationship. He was comfortable in solitude, but he enjoyed her company and was energized by her wonder. He reminded himself again that he would be patient, but sometimes you just have to try.

  Marcus interrupted the silence and asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, it’s only fair.”

  “Would you like to see a movie sometime? You know, like a real date.”

  “That would be nice” she replied.

  They grew closer throughout the remainder of the school year. Rosalind was provisionally accepted into a pre-med program at Northwestern University, and Marcus lingered in financial limbo into the spring until a financial-aid package was proposed that included a combination of grants, student loans, and work-study that would allow him to enter Penn State.

  Rosalind was scheduled to leave for Northwestern early for the summer session to take courses which would finalize her acceptance into the pre-med program. Neither of them had any doubts that she would succeed.

  At times when Marcus sought solitude, he enjoyed watching the sunrise at the Jersey Shore. It was a refuge of sorts for him when life at home became too crazy and chaotic, and he wanted to share that experience with Rosalind. They drove to Belmar, walked the boards, and spent their final night before her departure wondering about the future and trying to hold onto the past. They watched the tide roll out and the sunrise on the beach in the company of surf fishermen and seagulls. It was the beginning of a beautiful and sad day. They drove home in silence; each retreated into their interior places. Their parting was tearful with promises of frequent letters and phone calls. The following day, Rosalind finished packing for her trip to college and by mid-afternoon was in the air flying above Pennsylvania while Marcus was pushing his cart through the stockroom doors. He wondered why it hurt so much when you cared for someone. He would add this question to his list.

  Chapter 14

  Dr. Bea

  The purpose of life is a life with purpose. - Robert Bryne

  Rosalind excelled in her pre-med classes. Now that she had a focus, she spent little time thinking about her angst in high school. It already seemed like a long time ago. Her parent’s breakup was formalized in divorce, and she spent time individually with her mother and father during semester breaks and holidays. Her relationship with her mother was much the same, but she could already see her drifting into complacency. Rosalind worried about her; she needed to find something to re-vitalize her spirit.

  Her father, on the other hand, moved on quickly. He had found a meaningful relationship with a woman who had two children from a previous marriage, and he truly enjoyed helping to raise them. Rosalind expected that in the not too distant future, they would make their relationship permanent. Although Rosalind cherished the time she spent with her father, she felt the pull of his new family on his energy and interest. She felt now, more than ever, that she was alone in the world. Yet, surprisingly, Rosalind was unafraid of the future. She had been given the gift of purpose, and she vowed not to lose her grip on it.

  She and Marcus kept in touch. They would call and write each other while away at college and do their best to adjust to the demands of family and friends so that they could see each other when they were home on breaks.

  She volunteered as much as possible at a community clinic near the school. At first, her duties were mainly administrative, but as time passed through her sophomore and junior years, Dr. Bea took note of her continued commitment and gathered her under her wing to teach her ‘street medicine’ as she called it. This was the practice of medicine on a shoestring budget among the uninsured and underinsured. Their clientele were the homeless, undocumented immigrants, mentally ill, and veterans who were poorly served by their government. They also had their fair share of scared, pregnant teenagers and college kids on the road to addiction. Rosalind found herself crying some nights after stints at the clinic; the pain was raw, and the heartache was continuous.

  After one particularly stressful day, she reached out to Dr. Bea to describe her sadness and to ask how she is able to cope. Dr. Bea didn’t answer her right away and instead looked away as if she recalled a distant memory. Finally, she said to Rosalind, “Clearly there is enough heartache here; veterans who still suffer mentally and sleep in the street who are forgotten by the people their service protected. We serve homeless men and women who have slipped into despair and migrant families who are valued to harvest our food, but must live in the shadows without the benefits of citizenship that would define the true value of their contribution.” She paused with a sigh and continued, “And of course, there are the poor; there are always the poor. I decided long ago that I can’t look at their plight and do nothing so, here I am. But to be clear, this is not without personal rewards for me. I’ve met people who are at their lowest point who still care – who have more character and demonstrate more courage than anyone I’m likely to meet at a shopping mall or for that matter in a church pew. They have taught me what humility is and they have saved me from a life poorly lived.”

  Rosalind was silent as Dr. Bea spoke, but she was aware that what Dr. Bea felt about her service in the clinic was somewhat similar to what she got a glimpse of in the children’s hospital. She looked with appreciation at Dr. Bea and asked, “Have you ever worked in a children’s hospital?”

  “Not since my residency. Why do you ask?”

  Rosalind recounted her trip to the children’s hospital with Marcus and how she was inspired to pursue medicine. Dr. Bea seemed interested in the story, and Rosalind filled her in on the details. She seemed particularly interested in the encounter between Will and Marcus. At the end of her story, Rosalind added,” I
agree with you that character and courage are shown by the people that are served here, much as I first saw in the children at the hospital, but there is also a difference that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  Dr. Bea interjected, “Could it be the loss of hope?”

  Rosalind thought for a moment and said, “I don’t think that’s it. Hope is what keeps them coming here; they hope that their illnesses can be healed and perhaps their lives made less painful. No, I think they still have hope, but I think they have lost faith that society cares. But there is more. When I think back on what I witnessed with the children, it wasn’t just hope or faith that enlivened them, it was an expectation that they would live their lives as they found them. They commanded their lives and defied their illnesses even though it was clear that some would lose their battle. Maybe that’s the difference I feel; many of our clients have lost the command of their lives due to mental illness, drugs, alcohol, and the never-ending grind of poverty. It raises the question; How does one recover the command of one’s life?” I don’t know the answer to that question, and perhaps that’s one of the reasons for my sadness.”

  They both lingered and pondered their discussion until the demands of the clinic called them back to service. At the end of her shift, as Rosalind was preparing to go back to her apartment to study, Dr. Bea said to her, “The young man who took you to the children’s hospital; do you still see him?”

  “As often as I can. Marcus is at Penn State so we can only see each other on breaks and holidays.”

  “Well, if he ever comes out here for a visit, I’d like to meet him.” She winked and added, “I need to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

  Chapter 15

  Joined

  The opposite of loneliness is not togetherness, it’s intimacy. - Richard Bach

  Marcus and Rosalind focused on their studies, and each was determined to squeeze as much as possible out of the college experience. They maintained their long-distance relationship as best they could, but they were lonely apart. Rosalind began to look forward to medical school in the following year while Marcus decided to put in another year and pursue a Master’s Degree in the science of organic agriculture. It would keep him busy while Rosalind was in medical school. With spring break approaching in their senior year, they planned for Marcus to visit Rosalind at school.

  He was among the last to disembark from the plane – his quest for an affordable ticket price guaranteed a middle seat in the far reaches of the aircraft. He followed the signs for Baggage Claim even though he had none to claim. What he needed for a long weekend fit into his carry-on. However, Rosalind said she would meet him at Baggage Claim, and when he arrived at the baggage carousel, he began to search the crowd for the familiar brunette he daydreamed about on the plane. He scanned the crowd without success before she stepped forward dressed in a winter pea coat with a knit hat atop her head.

  “Sorry,” she said, “spring hasn’t fully arrived here yet, and we all look the same bundled up for winter.” He laughed and hugged her, holding on longer than intended. She kissed him lightly, put her arm through his and told him that she had her roommate’s car. “She went somewhere warm for the break.” She found the car in the sea of other cars parked in the short-term lot, and they set off on the thirty-minute drive to campus. She asked if it was ok to stop by the clinic on the way; “Dr. Bea wants to meet you.” He was puzzled but more than happy to stop; his only agenda was to spend time with Rosalind, - as she wanted to spend it.

  The clinic was located several blocks from campus toward the south of town in an area that had once been the center of development when the university was half of its present size, but the neighborhood was now eclipsed by the newly constructed glass and steel buildings on the north side of town. Students were served mainly by medical facilities associated with the university, and few had need of their services. Instead, the clinic served the population in town and of the outlying rural areas that encircled the university. They pulled up to the tan brick building with the look of a municipal utility and entered together. Rosalind left Marcus in the reception area that had the charm of a bus station while she went to find Dr. Bea. He smelled coffee and caught sight of a break room to the left of the reception area. He moved in that direction with high hopes.

  Rosalind returned with Dr. Bea and found Marcus chatting with Joy in the breakroom. They were talking like old friends and Rosalind, and Dr. Bea looked at each other in amazement. Joy was the gatekeeper who had to deal with all nature of clients. She was tough when necessary and as a former Marine Corp nurse, was not intimidated by anyone who walked through the door. She fought for her clients and together with Clarissa in the back office, fought with every government agency in the city, county, and state to get services for their people. Rosalind found her to be intimidating and worked hard to stay on her good side. Marcus noticed them when they came into the room and said, “Joy was telling me about her family and their love for the water. I’ve never seen Lake Michigan or the Sleeping Bear Dunes, but it’s sure on my list now.” Rosalind’s mouth was hanging open while Joy excused herself to return to the reception desk from where she ruled the clinic.

  Marcus stepped forward and extended his hand to Dr. Bea. He took her offered hand and said, “I’m glad to meet you; is it Louise or Beatrice?”

  She met his gaze and said, “I never liked Louise, so I’ve always gone with my middle name, Beatrice or Bea for short.”

  Still gently holding her hand he said, “And yet Louise too is a lovely name. I can imagine a young mother-to-be, on a blanket in a park, thinking about her first-born and the strides that women were making in the world, and saying “I shall name her Louise and she will do great things.”” He released her hand and smiled warmly.

  Dr. Bea paused for a beat, laughed and said, “You must be Irish, you have the gift of eloquence or is it blarney?” she continued, “Rosalind has told me a lot about you, and I’m fascinated to hear more. Could you sit for a few minutes and chat?”

  Marcus replied, “Sure, that would be great,” and they sat at the table in the break room which also served as the conference room and also as the file room judging by the file boxes stacked in the corners. Dr. Bea leaned back in her chair so that she could see Joy at the reception desk and called out, “How much time do I have?”

  “Another 15 minutes” came the reply.

  “OK. We only have about 15 minutes, so I’ll get to the point. I’m fascinated with Rosalind’s account of your visit to the children’s hospital, particularly with your encounter with Will.” She turned to Rosalind and said, “Is that right, his name was Will?”

  Marcus answered for her, “Yes his name is Will, which he prefers to William.

  ‘Is he doing ok if I may ask?”

  “I don’t see him as often given his remission and with me away at school, but he’s doing fine. He’s back at school full time and catching up fast. I expect that we’ll hear great things from him in the future. He is someone we will hear more of, to be sure.”

  “Rosalind told me about the process you used with him that he referred to as his colors. Could you describe that to me?”

  Marcus never actually described what he’s learned and what he does to a medical professional before. The nurses at the children’s hospital didn’t seem to be all that curious about details; they knew that it helped their kids and even if it only helped them cope, they were ok with it. They came to understand that much more than just coping resulted; the outcome for these kids seemed to be changing for the better.

  Marcus decided that he would have to provide some background and talk about his personal experience. He recounted for her his struggle with asthma and the panic it spawned. “From that experience, I learned to prevent panic by dealing with the underlying cause; fear. Once I took control of the panic, I found I had some control over my body, which taken in small steps over time allowed me to eliminate the effec
ts of asthma. I was amazed that any of this was even possible; that my mind could consciously control my body. Despite this personal revelation which was so life-changing for me, no one seemed to talk much about this out in the world, and it caused me to wonder if this was a rare thing or something anyone could do. So, I did what I always did; I read everything I could find on the subject.” He described to Dr. Bea what he discovered so far related to healers and the processes they used and concluded, “Some so-called healers were bogus to be sure, but I am convinced in the legitimacy of some.”

  Dr. Bea listened to his account and asked, “You described your personal journey very well, but what about Will?”

  Marcus smiled to himself and thought that this lady was very perceptive. This was an area that he never talks about because he doesn’t yet fully understand it himself. He also realized that he would have to explore this with someone and who better than a doctor, so he breathed deeply and dove in.

  “In the reading I’ve been doing, there is a lot written about energy healing of various kinds. At first, I thought this was woo-woo stuff; you know, so far out there to be unbelievable. But now I’m not so sure. If you move outside of the religious-based accounts, you still find instances where some measure of healing has occurred using various techniques. Measurable effects have even been documented on plants and animals which completely bypasses the issue of “faith” which is often discussed in the religious examples. People who have demonstrated this capacity have generally characterized the process they use as manipulation and/or transfer of energy. Some accounts are quite remarkable. At first, I didn’t connect anything that I did with energy; I simply controlled my fear, focused on controlling my heart rate and breathing, and used visualization.”

  “Yet, I noticed that when I practiced that control, my body warms which becomes especially noticeable in my hands. I began to wonder if energy is somehow involved. I taught my control thing to my younger sister, and it seemed to help her help herself. She got very good at pushing away headaches in just a few minutes. But when she ended up in the children’s hospital with a more serious illness, her condition was overwhelming for her, so I used to help her by placing one hand on her stomach and one on her shoulder while we both focused our intention. We could only do this for a few minutes at a time because she claimed that my hands got too hot but always swore that it helped her. Our parents thought we were just being kids and didn’t take it seriously. I’m not sure they ever thought there was any benefit to it.”