This One’s for Lucy
Recently, I’ve been mulling over what constitutes a meaningful life. It’s a question trenched in a pit of platitudes. Life functions surreptitiously around this pit within which, at some uncertain depth, a truth exists. But most of us never descend, not unless we trip and fall or are outright shoved; obtusely, we skirt around, on the surface of things, assuming our lives inconsequential without proof of the contrary.
Many attempt garnering tangible evidence—wealth, accolades—all things intended to validate our existence through plausible influence. Finding a causal relationship between ourselves and the world satiates our human yearning to feel impactful. Essentially, we want to know that our life makes a difference.
We are compelled to consider that most of our impact occurs unbeknownst to us,
unsubstantiated by accolades and far outside public arenas. Forgive the trope, but consider the butterfly effect (an allegory for the chaos theory), indicating small influences eventuating into much larger consequences. So too do our daily actions translate into broader implications beyond our scope of recognition.
It’s people like nurse Lucy that remind me of this. Who is nurse Lucy, you ask?
My son recently had a hospital visit for potential appendicitis. During a prior visit to the hospital he’d endured stitches after an ineffective anesthetic injection. Essentially, he could feel everything as they sewed him up, embroidering on his psyche a visceral fear of needles, of hospitals in general.
So when we arrived at the entrance to the emergency room this time around, my seven-year-old son shook in terror. Though I tried to comfort him, I too feared he would be met with the same callous negligence that he’d encountered previously. When triage ordered labs, including a blood panel, the panic set in.
And then Lucy happened.
Pictured above: Lucy, wearing her custom necklace from Raiz with Highland's handwritten, "Thank you Lucy" note.
Lucy, the phlebotomist in red scrubs and a warm, gentle smile, greeted my son. She knelt down to his level in a welcome display of the respect and dignity we all deserve. There was a presence to Lucy. She wasn’t there to simply perform her job; at that moment, she was there just for my son. Lucy’s attentiveness and care seemed exquisitely attuned, responding to my son’s every concern, elevating him with humor, soothing him with empathy. On that routine Wednesday, Lucy liberated a young boy from his abject fear. And when he had to return a few days later, he no longer shook upon entering that building. In fact all he did was turn to me and ask,
“Do you think Lucy will be here?”
Make your own treasured gift. Take a picture of a hand written note, a special piece of artwork or a signature and upload to one of Raiz's custom photo pendants to create a custom and meaningful gift fit for any occasion.