Saying No to Nardy

When I went on long-term medical leave ten years ago, we didn’t need know how long "long-term" would be, I expected cards, flowers, gifts and well wishes from colleagues, from both new and well-established relationships.  What I am in awe about 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 by the love and support of friends outside work and work family.  The first one was big, the biggest medical issue that I or anyone I knew had 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 returned to work.  And 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 on long-term disability after my second spine surgery, and after a tsunami of cards and flowers, the well wishes stopped.  It was gradual.  And I’m not upset - life goes on.  What’s disappointing is the people I thought would have carried me through this tragedy weren't there. Then there was 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. And 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 point 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.  I thought about telling Nardy the truth about my thoughts about religion, or that my neighbor died.  But 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.