Reality is not always my friend...

I mentioned a couple days ago that the health of a woman from one of the home visits has gone downhill.  

Drastically.  

I just got an update this morning, they've sent her home from the hospital and into hospice care. The doctors feel it is only a matter of days.  Out of respect for the family's privacy, I won't go into any greater detail, but I use this as a point of reference for something I've spoken about this year on tour.

Typically, when someone (read "media types") asks me about the tour, I speak more about the emotion of home visits.  Even though I've been on tour and I know why we do what we do, I'm not terribly experienced at speaking to reporters and on those occasions when I do, reading it afterwards I typically feel like "crap I should have said this better" you know?

Instead, this is what I try and relate it to...

In our job as firefighters or firefighter/paramedics, too many times despite or best efforts; timely care, following the appropriate medical orders, using the proper drugs in the proper dose at the proper time with all appropriate interventions done correctly, we still have a bad outcome.

Not so with the Tour.  

We come in and provide love, hugs and flowers to women (usually) to provide them with an emotional lift and let them know we love them and want them to keep fighting.  We provide a good day for all involved, even if for a short time.

Usually.

The news from our home visit provides a cold slap of reality in the face.

We don't normally get follow-up information on the people we visit so, at least for me, in my mind's eye, they are always there, with family and friends, just the way we left them.

All wrapped up with a pretty bow, now let's move on to the next home visit/event/town/state...

Except...

The people we visit don't get the same thing from the same perspective.  They get the reality. Nothing long-term has changed for them.  

And this has brought it into focus for me.  Thanks for that.  Reality, you suck.

What happened to the lady from May of 2011, my first ever home visit?

What happened to little Hailey from last year?  

What's going to happen to Haley from this year?

Or any of the other fighters/survivors we've (I've) met over the last few years of this?

There was a certain comfort in the NOT knowing.  An idiot bliss, if you will.  Now, at least in this case, that's gone.  Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't care what happens to the people I meet.  I do.  Especially the ones I have some sort of connection with, even if it's just a random, spontaneous kind of thing.  You don't always have to know someone well to connect with them.  It may not be a life-long bond, or even enough to sustain a relationship, but, well, you know.

OK, this one took a little more somber turn than most of the drivel I put up in here.  I assure you, it won't change the way I go about Pink Heals Touring.  I still love this stuff, even if reality sticks his or her nose into my business once in a while.

If you're the praying type, please say a few for our home visit and her family.  If you're not, please keep them in your thoughts.

Pink Heals!

Peace

PS because there's always (not really always, obvs) a PS-
by this time Sunday, I'll be home... thanks again reality.

PPS (or is it PSS? I forget) on the plus side, Dave hasn't called me a quitter yet.  So I've got that going for me... which is nice...