The Human Touch

Mile Marker 17:

If you saw two women pushing a cat in a stroller on Monday night, don’t think you’re crazy.  But don’t think they’re crazy either!

The cat, Moe, belongs to my good friends Mary and Chris.   I’ve heard people say, “My cat thinks he’s a dog,” but I’ve never seen a cat quite like Moe.  You see, Moe thinks he’s HUMAN.

At dinner that night, Moe ate in the kitchen while we ate in the dining room.  But Moe didn’t actually eat.  Have you ever seen a 23-pound cat refuse food?  But Moe stared and stared at us.  Hello.  I’m here.  I’m really one of you.   Finally, Chris sighed.  He got up and moved Moe’s food to the dining room floor by our feet.  “Don’t ask,” he said, shaking his head warily.

So when Mary and I decided to go for a walk later, it was only natural to take Moe with us.  He hopped into his stroller (yes, his stroller), ready to go!

Chris carried Moe’s stroller down the front steps like a city dad carrying his child's stroller to the subway.  Mary and I took over from there.  We were off!

As you might expect, we were stopped by a few neighbors.   “There’s a cat in there?!” exclaimed a kid on a bike.  But after a few more questions, he pedaled off.   Just another night in South Philly.

The thing is, it was just another night.  But being human is more powerful than you think.  Of course, we do it every day.  But I mean really being human.  Some call them Random Acts of Kindness; others call it Karma.  And I've experienced it over and over again these past 8 months.

Each day during rounds in the hospital, my surgeon Dr. J stopped by.  “What’s up, Levenberg?” he’d snap.  I couldn’t help but smile.  It didn’t matter if I had an oozing wound on my leg or retention sutures across my stomach.  I felt like joking along with him.  I felt human.

One night, after my parents had left, my nurse Fran came in to check on me.  She asked how my day went, and I told her not so well.  “I had a meltdown,” I said, which is how I referred to my moments of disaster, crying, and generally letting it all out.  “Me too!” she said.  “This afternoon I was so tired.  I knew I had to work tonight, and I just lost it.”  We talked a bit more, and then she left to perform her other duties.  But a few hours later, she stuck her head into my room.  “Rebecca,” she called, “I’m goin’ over to Starbucks.  You want anything?”  It was late and I didn’t have much of an appetite, but my heart just soared!  I felt human!

Hello.  I’m here.  I’m really one of you.   Belonging is important, and Moe knows it.  He looks out from his stroller at the busy world around him.  He feels like a part of it all.

My doctors and nurses didn't realize that their small gestures would make such a difference.  But they did in my world.  Being human is more than what’s measured when they take your vital signs.  It’s what happens in between.