Some days I truly hate American Society.

[SeaCat]

There are some days I truly hate being an American. Not because of our government and it's policies, but because of how our society views women and beauty.

Why am I saying this? Because I dealt with the nasty side of this today.

One of my patients is a young woman, much younger than I am. She has some nasty scars on her belly as well as a Colostomy. She's been fighting her cancer for several years and finally her prognosis is better than good. She is clean, she is going to heal. Within the next year she will have the Colostomy reversed, and yet the scars will remain.

When I walked into her rom this morning she was quiet, withdrawn. Now her usual self. I finished up my first run and came back to her room to find her in the same condition. Sitting on the edge of her bed I looked at her and quietly asked her what was going on. She didn't say a wod at first, she just looked at me then climbed slowly out of her bed. Standing there she shrugged out of her gown, looked at me then down at her scarred body before looking back at me.

"Who would ever want to be with me when I look like this?" She asked me.

Okay so now I'm sitting on the bed looking at this young woman standing in front of me completely nude. Her belly is scarred to hell and she has this Colostomy Bag hanging from her belly and she's asking me what guy would ever find her attractive.

Oh damn but this hurts. I know what she is asking and why. Remember my wife has some scars of her own, as do I and so many other people I know.

All right, I know the door is closed because I closed it behind me. I know we aren't going to be interupted because her R.N. had passed this patient her meds and the Doctor doing rounds had already been in the room.

No I didn't pick up her gown and cover her again, that would have done the exact opposite of what needed to be done. Instead I told her to sit on the bed.

Okay so I sat there with a beautiful young lady. She was nude and I was dressed. I talked with her for over an hour, answering questions and pointing out things. I explained about the scars my wife and mother carry. She asked me about mine, she asked if I carried scars. After I explained about the way my skin heals I allowed her to find several of my scars. I even left the room long enough to grab the X-Rays from my car so she could see the spare parts I have. (After market and not recomended.)

By the time I left her room she had put her gown back on and was talking and moving around a bit.

When I left for the day she was actually smiling a bit. She had asked for my E-Mail Address, which I gave her, and had promised me to kee fighting as long as I would be there for her.

What made it best for me was the comment I received from my supervisor. She pulled me to the side and informed me that my patient had asked to speak with her. My patient had informed her that she had been thinkin of giving up, of letting go but after talking with me she had changed her mind. She had informed my boss that it was only because I had cared to talk with her, to take the time to listen to her that had changed her mind. (Yes my boss did ask but I didn't tell her.) I know it hurt my boss dearly to pass a good job my way but she did so. (As did the patients Doctor.)

Cat

 

[The_Fool]

I don't usually crack out the old shit, but this one fits too well.


Elaborate Décolletage
by The_Fool ©


The mirror reflects
Their image
As they get ready
For a bittersweet celebration.
He carefully knots his tie.
She carefully knots her scarf
That hides the uneven stubble
Of her ravaged head of hair.
Makeup cannot hide,
Tentative smiles cannot hide
The pain expressed by their eyes,
Especially from each other.

Once, getting dressed
Called for innuendo
And for liberties taken,
With much laughter
And mock aggravation.
Sometimes,
Never even making it
To their destination.
Tonight,
Is filled with fragile silence;
Tempered,
With concern and affection.

Seeking solitude,
She equips herself
With the trappings and harness
That she feels
gives the appearance
That she is still a woman.
She can no longer flaunt
What she no longer has.
An exquisite new dress,
Bought special for this occasion,
Drapes her now boyish figure
And hides her scars.

He compliments her beauty.
The delicate lace of her neckline
Drapes the fragile curves
Of her neck and shoulders.
The ruby red of her dress
Brighten the emerald green
Of her eyes,
Too big for her face.
But the real beauty that he sees
Is the fiery passion deep inside,
Is the love that she shares,
Is her strength of mind and character.

It’s not the scars on her body
That bring tears to his eyes.
It’s not the lines where once
There were curves.
He would pay anything.
He would do anything.
To erase the self-doubt,
To burn away scars
That have mutilated her soul,
To erase the fear from her eyes,
That she is no longer desirable,
That she is no longer a woman.

 

[vampiredust]

That is a touching story and it's sad that society regards being beauty as having to conform to certain criteria (usually blonde, thin and no ass)

whatever happened to that truest beauty? that which lies inside?

 

[TE999]

You are a Prince among men, cat.

That woman will have a good life thanks to you.

Wonderful poem, Fool.

Time is the thief, it steals our youth and beauty.

 

[SeaCat]

I don't usually crack out the old shit, but this one fits too well.


Elaborate Décolletage
by The_Fool ©


The mirror reflects
Their image
As they get ready
For a bittersweet celebration.
He carefully knots his tie.
She carefully knots her scarf
That hides the uneven stubble
Of her ravaged head of hair.
Makeup cannot hide,
Tentative smiles cannot hide
The pain expressed by their eyes,
Especially from each other.

Once, getting dressed
Called for innuendo
And for liberties taken,
With much laughter
And mock aggravation.
Sometimes,
Never even making it
To their destination.
Tonight,
Is filled with fragile silence;
Tempered,
With concern and affection.

Seeking solitude,
She equips herself
With the trappings and harness
That she feels
gives the appearance
That she is still a woman.
She can no longer flaunt
What she no longer has.
An exquisite new dress,
Bought special for this occasion,
Drapes her now boyish figure
And hides her scars.

He compliments her beauty.
The delicate lace of her neckline
Drapes the fragile curves
Of her neck and shoulders.
The ruby red of her dress
Brighten the emerald green
Of her eyes,
Too big for her face.
But the real beauty that he sees
Is the fiery passion deep inside,
Is the love that she shares,
Is her strength of mind and character.

It’s not the scars on her body
That bring tears to his eyes.
It’s not the lines where once
There were curves.
He would pay anything.
He would do anything.
To erase the self-doubt,
To burn away scars
That have mutilated her soul,
To erase the fear from her eyes,
That she is no longer desirable,
That she is no longer a woman.

Fool,

You have done something that no one has done for many years. You have moved me to tears.

Your poem humbles and yet honors me by it's posting on this thread. With your permission I would like to copy it and hang it on my unit.

Cat

 

[scriptordelecto]

Cat and Fool.....you're both beautiful.

 

[Guest]

Cat and Fool.....you're both beautiful.

Yes.

 

[cloudy]

Cat and Fool.....you're both beautiful.

indeed.

 

[The_Fool]

Fool,

You have done something that no one has done for many years. You have moved me to tears.

Your poem humbles and yet honors me by it's posting on this thread. With your permission I would like to copy it and hang it on my unit.

Cat

Feel free...

 

[SeaCat]

You are a Prince among men, cat.

That woman will have a good life thanks to you.

Wonderful poem, Fool.

Time is the thief, it steals our youth and beauty.

No TE99,

She will not have a good life because of me. She will have a good life because of herself.

I can only offer her a helping hand and a shoulder upon which to rest and cry. I can only offer her a bit of guidance but it is her inner strength, that which truly makes her beautiful that will make her survive.

One day, soon I hope, she will find a man who will see her true beauty. (And yes she is truly beautiful.)

As for my being a prince, never happen.

Yes Fools poem is incredible, as I have mentioned. It did something that has rarely been done. It moved me to tears.

Cat

 

[SeaCat]

Feel free...

I thank you.

It has been copied and tomorrow I will pass it along to one of my co-workers who does Calligraphy. I will hang it in the Nurses Station so that all that work on my unit see it and remember what our patients deal with.

Cat

 

[The_Fool]

Cat,

Just so you know the history if asked, I wrote that poem after discussions with a friend whose wife had a double mastectomy after finding a precancerous lump. After the surgery, after the chemo, they worked through a lot of pain to put her back together mentally and physically. But he was warm, loving and caring and they seem to have reestablished a level of normalcy.

 

[Liar]

Touching story, Cat, and uplifting in a way, to remind us that that is what it usually takes to be able to help; a good ear and an hour of one's time. Not enough people seem to want to take that time anymore.

But I'm not so sure it's got all that much to do with American or western society. It seems to be a pretty universally human thing, from what I've seen while dealing with young people, teenagers in my case, from almost every culture under the sun. The need to be loved, accepted, appreciated, and the constant insecurities tied to that.

 

[buxxxom]

Thank you, Cat and Fool, on behalf of this woman. Thank you also to someone else, who knows who they are. You are all beautiful human beings, and when we see ourselves as beautiful, it is because we see ourselves through your eyes.

 

[Nookiehunter]

Thank you, Cat and Fool, on behalf of this woman. Thank you also to someone else, who knows who they are. You are all beautiful human beings, and when we see ourselves as beautiful, it is because we see ourselves through your eyes.

There is nothing as beautiful as a giving, insatiably sexy, woman.

Nookiehunter

 

[SeaCat]

Cat,

Just so you know the history if asked, I wrote that poem after discussions with a friend whose wife had a double mastectomy after finding a precancerous lump. After the surgery, after the chemo, they worked through a lot of pain to put her back together mentally and physically. But he was warm, loving and caring and they seem to have reestablished a level of normalcy.

Fool,

I wrote Beach Party from the story of one of my patients. She is an incredibly tough woman.

It is sad how so many people see scars as blemishes and not signs of survival. The friend you wrote the poem about is truly blessed. Thre are too many women who i have deal with who's spouse or S/O have left them becuse of their disease. This disgusts me as you wouldn't understand.

I am often disgusted by the actions f men when ther S/O is diagnosed with either cancer or another deadly disease. Maybe it is because I am the son of a cancer survivor, and the husband of a woman who dealt with the threat of cancer but I can't understand the mindset.

Somehow I can't understand the mindset of so many people who view those who have cancer as being flawed.

Somehow I can't understand the idea that a woman who can no longer have children is no longer a woman. (As a matter of fact this idea pisses me off.) (You can'timagine how many men feel this way.)

I am, I admit, one of those very few strange people who do not view the ability to becom pregnant as the end all of womanhood. I am one of those very few who do not view women as merely a way to carry on our species. I am one of the very few who do not agree with the common ideas of beauty and good looks.

Okay soI'm babbling a bit, butn I view things like beauty differenty than most. Maybe it's beause of what I have dealt with.

Cat

 

[SeaCat]

Thank you, Cat and Fool, on behalf of this woman. Thank you also to someone else, who knows who they are. You are all beautiful human beings, and when we see ourselves as beautiful, it is because we see ourselves through your eyes.

Buxxom,

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, it is truly in the eye of the beautiful. If you feel that you are beautiful the you truly are beautiful.

I challenge anyone to shpw me why scars are not beautiful.

Cat

 

[mcopado]

'cat, mi hermano

I know you hurt for her, and the injustice of the world and it's definitions of beauty that scars more than it honors...But if you didn't hurt, if you didn't show compassion, if you had simply done the "ethical" thing, or the "comfortable" thing that someone else in your shoes might have, and coverred her up then, then the evil would have won...

Instead you waded in to her misery, dug deep into your own woundedness and openned the door to her healing...

[quote='cat]She will not have a good life because of me. She will have a good life because of herself.[/quote]

This is true, my friend, but there is also a level of bullshit in it my friend...She might not have the potential for a "good life" without you my friend...You were/are the key. you broke through the ice that was around her soul, my friend. So you damn well better take some of the credit, because if you hadn't done what you did, and in the way you did, it is doubtful that anyone else would.

It's no coincidence that you were there at exactly the right time, and in the right mindspace to be present to her. It was no accident...the universe by whatever name you call it put you there, with your heart, your history and your unique insight....to do exactly what you did, to be a catalyst for her healing process.

Buddy, may I recommend that on your next bookstore run, that you pick up a copy of the book, The Wounded Healer by the late therapist and priest Henri Nouwen. You can skip almost the entire book, but read the essay of the same name.

What you told me, brings Henri Nouwen’s image of the Wounded Healer to mind. The wounded healer represents Nouwen’s belief that “in our own woundedness we can become a source of life for others.” This image bumps up against our common images of woundedness. On one hand, when we think of the wounded we think “victim”—powerless, weak, done in. We become the Wounded Victim when our personhood becomes absorbed into our own sense of brokenness, and all we can be for the world is powerless victim. To protect ourselves from this possibility, we create the icon of the Impenetrable Healer—bullet-proof, strong, indestructible. Here, we deny our own wounds and ignore our brokenness until we find ourselves isolated.

Somewhere between the icons of the Wounded Victim and the Impenetrable Healer is a third way: The Wounded Healer. Sounds crazy… wounded healer…. How can my being wounded and tending to those wounds make another person whole? In fact, the ancient healing traditions believe that the ability to heal comes directly out of one’s own woundedness and moving through that woundedness to a deep place of wisdom and compassion. The Yakut people of eastern Siberia say of the shaman’s power to heal that “he is able only to help with those ailments whose source… has been given its share of shaman-flesh.” In other words, if the spirit eats the shaman’s leg flesh, the shaman will be able to cure leg ailments. But in order for the shaman to be powerful, he is not only wounded, but also has completed a process of self-healing. Only then, wounded and healed, can the shaman begin to help with the transformation of others. Henri Nouwen says it this way: it is a “great illusion…to think that [one] can be led out of the desert by someone who has never been there.”

The poet Robert A. Robinson says that “most things break,” including people. We all break at some point, whether physically, psychically, or spiritually. And perhaps from our own experience we know that insofar as we have suffered and have come through that suffering to the other side, we are all the more able to serve others. As Henri Nouwen taught us, our wounds are our greatest gift. If we approach them in the right spirit, neither as victim nor as superhero, but as Wounded Healer, they break us into a beauty we can share with the world.

Just as you did, and hopefully someday, when she is healed emotionally, and is able to come to terms with whatever scars she is left with, and loves and accepts them; that she too will draw from her own wounds, and help someone facing the same thing as she was.

You, my friend are that very embodiment of Nouwen's idea...and I'm damn proud to know you.

(SO drop the damn 'I'm no hero' wall, and let us love you! )

 

[Nookiehunter]

Buxxom,

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, it is truly in the eye of the beautiful. If you feel that you are beautiful the you truly are beautiful.

I challenge anyone to shpw me why scars are not beautiful.

Cat

Very well said, SeaCat. I couldn't agree more.

Nookiehunter

 

[rgraham666]

Cat, you're a damn fine person. One of the best it's been my privilege to know.

And Fool? Again I stand in awe of your ability to express so much with so little.

 

[champagne1982]

Buxxom,

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, it is truly in the eye of the beautiful. If you feel that you are beautiful the you truly are beautiful.

I challenge anyone to shpw me why scars are not beautiful.

Cat

It's not the physical scars that mar the soul. As I'm sure you're more than aware, surgery is the ultimate violation and it's most often performed with our consent. Consent under duress, granted, but somehow, the alternative is not so appealing as to allow us to do anything differently.

My scars are not pretty, but they are badges of courage that no one can ever diminish. I have faced dying, often, once is more than enough, but to gladly repeat the experience... well, some things are better than death.

Thank you for giving that young woman back her chance at accepting her reflection for the image that it is. It only shows what lies on the surface, those who love us, see us with different eyes.

 

[Liar]

Beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, it is truly in the eye of the beautiful.

Actually, it is. But what people tend to forget, is that the most important beholder of you, probably the only one that really matters, is yourself.

 

[Svenskaflicka]

Scheisse, Cat, every time I'm ready to give up hope on men, you go and restore my faith that there ARE a few good men out there!