My Last Spring
Spring has been lovely in St. Louis this month. It seemed to creep up on the neighborhood like a old tabby who suddenly appears underfoot, purring and mewing blossoms of quietude after the winter winds. The redbud trees lining the side streets have been flashing their slender pink arms to passing cars. The contrast between them and the banana-yellow forsythia bushes is striking - when they appear side-by-side they form a clash in colors reminiscent of a Caribbean cruise. How could one not fall into spritely dance seeing such warm beauty?
As I daydreamed out on the screen porch one evening last week I caught the scent of some Persian princess who seemed to be waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. It was an alluring perfume, candy-cane like in its sweetness - perhaps arising from her smooth neck or elegant hands. I sat up, shook my head and realized I was smelling the precious scent of the viburnum planted in front of me. It had bloomed for the twelfth spring in a row, delighting those who come out at night seeking solace, or affirmation of the goodness of life.
I knew it was the twelfth spring for viburnum because that is how long we have lived in this house. I also knew that this was the last time I was going to savor this lovely fragrance, for soon we are moving to a different house with unfamiliar plantings. How hard it is to say goodbye to the season of rebirth when it is painted all around one’s home. I thought of all of the colors and aromas in my yard - the lily-of-the-valley, the pink dogwood trees, the lilacs and the Bracken’s magnolia tree. Most of all I will miss the peonies growing in a crescent on the small hill in my back yard. There is no faster way to lift a spirit than to place a giant peony blossom on the kitchen table. Its lemon-vanilla perfume is as intoxicating as sleep itself. Next year some new family will possess all my pretty flowers -will they wander through the grass with delight, or stay indoors and watch television?
I relished in the beauty of the season as I drove to work the next day, with perhaps a thimble full of self-centered, ungracious pity for the transition looming ahead. Anyone who loves nature hates to say goodbye to it, even if only leaving a simple affair such as a memorable camping trip. I arrived at the office and walked into an examining room to greet my first patient of the morning. He was a middle-aged man who had just taken his first cycle of chemotherapy for metastatic lung cancer last week. “I’ve been doing a lot of reading on the internet about small cell lung cancer,” he replied, ” and I didn’t like what I found out about my chances.” Before I could speak he looked me straight in the eye and said:
“Do you think this will be my last spring?”
I asked God for health, that I might do greater things,
I was given infirmity, that I might do better things.
I asked for all things, that I might enjoy life,
I was given life, that I might enjoy all things.
May all doctors learn as much from their patients as I have.
