Saying No to Nardy

When I went on long term medical leave ten years ago, at the time we didn’t need know how long term it would be, I expected cards, flowers, gifts and well wishes from colleagues.  Both new and well-established relationships.  What I am awed with is that some people are still reaching out.  If I don’t talk to them, I see them on a regular basis or they send me a card. 

During three prior medical leaves, I was overwhelmed with the love and support of friends outside work and my work family.  My first one was big, the biggest medical issue that anyone of us has faced.  It was my first spine surgery.  There were lots of exams and specialized pre-surgical testing. My friends were incredibly supportive by accompanying me to doctor visits and during those appointments held my hand and wiped my tears.  Work accommodated my expanding doctor visit portfolio.   

Still under anesthesia the flowers started coming in.  Then when I was settled in my room, more came.  When I was transferred to a rehab another wave of flowers, plants and gifts arrived.  There were so many flowers, you would have thought my hospital room was a staging area for the Rose Bowl Parade.  My brother and I joked about whose friends sent the most flowers.  No doubt my friends won the game. 

Two more surgeries and it was the same.  Flowers and more flowers.  Just when the well wishes and flowers waned, I would return to work.  When I did return to work, I was welcomed back like a conquering hero. 

For someone that wasn’t popular in High School, all this attention was intoxicating.  I felt like Sally Field when she won an Oscar:  They like me.  They really like me.  I savored every sentiment sent my way. 

As expected, when I had to go onto long term disability after my second spine surgery, and after a tsunami of cards and flowers, the well wishes have stopped.  It was gradual.  I’m not upset life goes on.  What’s disappointing is the people I thought would have carried me through this tragedy aren’t here. Then there’s Nardy.   If you would have told me that Nardy and I would be in regular contact of any kind, I would have thought you were the one under anesthesia.  Nardy and I worked in the same building, and we barely spoke.   She only spoke to me when I was standing in front of the copier, counting on my fingers how many copies of a document I needed, she would growl:  you going to be long?  If I said yes, she would stomp back to her office.  She was also just as impatient in the kitchen.  With  my finger hovering over the start button on the microwave, she would stomp in and ask: are you almost done?  Before I got to answer, she turned on her heels and went back to her office. 

After 10 years not a month goes by that I don’t get a card from Nardy always with a  

a psalm or her signature God Loves You.  She also includes an update about what’s going on at work and her family.  The envelopes are decorated with smiley face stickers or psalms in her own beautiful handwriting.  Every once in a while, she will include a story book about the bible.  I can’t throw the booklets out, that would be bad karma so when she kept sending them, I gave them to my neighbor who I know would enjoy them.  At one time I made a mistake and told her in a loving way that I gave my neighbor the story books, and how much he enjoyed them. (I really did give them to my neighbor.)  After hearing that, Nardy generously started sending me two booklets so I could share one with my neighbor.  I won’t tell Nardy that sometimes I put the booklets in collection boxes to be sent to the troops in the Middle East.  It’s too to tell Nary the truth about my thoughts about religion and or my neighbor died.   The booklets are sitting in a drawer waiting for another collection box for the troops. 

Ten years later, my life isn’t what I thought it would be, but knowing that Nardy and God love me, I believe I’ll be ok.