Farewell

Today was my last day at the clinic.  Wow.

It was a lovely day but definitely felt surreal. 

I planned a murder mystery with the girls today, so we had a lot of fun as a group.  Ironically (or inappropriately given the client population???) the theme was 'Nip, Tuck & Murder' about a murder that had occured to a plastic surgeon.  My character was Kim Plant.  We had a Nurse May Kitbetter, a Rich Zucker, Beau Tox, Anna Lyst among others :)

This morning I went on a "snack out" to Starbucks with a patient (theraputic task/challenge of 1.  eating in public 2.  eating something that they don't have control over ingredients) .  I've seen this girl transform into a brand new person and emerge into such a special individual in the last six months.  It was a really special note to end on.  Tears welled up in my eyes and spilled over when she looked up at me from her cup of tea and said, "this is where I see you in ten years. . .   In a huge house in America.  In a big garden that leads up to a lake, sitting in a swing with two beautiful little children - a boy and a girl - wearing a red or green floaty dress.  You'll be making daisy chains with your little girl. Philip will come out side kick a football around (or whatever guys do in America) with your little boy and you will have a picnic (with some baked beans ;).  There will be lots of laughter and joy."  There are a million reasons that brought tears to my eyes.  I know (and she now understands) that for a long time that kind of picture seemed so unrealistic and elusive but as I have been blessed with a life of healthy and normalcy beyond which I deserve or could have ever dreamed of - it's a possibility.    When I was telling the patients "my story" the other week the only part where I got really tearful was talking about fertility and how painfully scary it is to think about the possibility I might not be able to have children because of choices I made earlier in life and how unfair that would be for Philip.  So, the family bit of her "image" really touched my heart as I pray it can be our reality someday.

We had a lovely afternoon.  After the mystery was solved, we enjoyed some time together in the lounge.  The girls and the staff had made one of my favorites:  fudgey, wet, moist, chocolately brownies (no nuts) and did just a beautiful presentation of everything.  We sat around laughing about my American accent and everyone's horrible attempts at immitating it.  I recounted my memory of first coming to the clinic to meet Penny [I had just been turned down for a job with Univ. of Maryland that would have paid for part of my MA tuition and was MASSIVELY dissapointed - I received a garbled message from Penny on my mobile while in Edinburgh w/ our brothers about something regarding a "bank" position.  I thought to myself, "well, I'll go to the clinic to meet her and maybe make an in road for my internship but I sure can't drive 2 hours a day for admin or accounting work!"  Turns out "bank" was a British term, I drove to Norwich, met Penny and left with a job.]

Most people leave work early on their last day.  I didn't actually walk out the door for the final time until 6:45 tonight.  When I did, it was withtears streaming down my face.

The clinic has not been an easy place to work.  Yet, as I look over the last three years in England, I acknowledge that my experience working at the clinic has made this chapter of my life so incredibly rich and meaningful.  I have learned so much about myself, about culture, about clinical practice.  The job was very much orchestrated by the Lord from the onset (and I'm reminding myself of God's soverignty in giving me more than I could hope for or dream of in my England work circumstace as I fight becoming dissapointed/frustrated/worried about still having not secured employment in D.C.  I trust that the Lord will, once again, provide).

I loved my work.  This was an incredible gift.   My cup runneth over.

And now it's time to say goodbye.

It is now 10:43pm.  I just discovered a note tucked in something from the patient I mentioned above. 

You took me in under your wings

When I was too scared to fly

You told me that I had to live

When all I wanted was to die

You saw the fear and sadness I had

By only the sound of my voice

You said I didn't have to talk -

You were the first to give me that choice

You told me just to take my time

We'll always have next week

There were many, many time

When you'd just let me weep

You somehow made me smile, though

Through my pain and all the tears

You told me all about my life

And what happened in those years

To my surprise you were right

You already knew me so well

So I decided to stick with you

"I like her already.  I can tell."

You opened my heart very slow

And took a look inside

Then you found the part of me

That I wanted to badly to hide

But you didn't laugh, nor did you leave

You didn't say I was wrong

You told me that I'd be fine -

Something I'd needed for so long

Then I realized something was wrong

When I sat there all those days

Then I finally figured out

It was something I didn't say

Thank you was all I could get out

Though I wanted to say much  more

You have taught me of life and love

And that I have something to live for.

Tears are streaming uncontrollably down my face.  For a girl who doesn't like writing at all (and insists that she is rubbish at it, thus won't share her writing), she's got a buried gift that I was just afforded a VERY rare glimpse of. Wow.  And that is why every "bad day" I've ever endured has been worth it.  This one is for you too, mom.  They all are.  I couldn't have this without you.