Dooley Noted: 5/20/14
Last summer was a blur. But I remember one weekend distinctly.
For Father’s Day, I flew home to Indiana. When I arrived, my father was sitting at his beloved picnic table that overlooks his garden.
My father’s once lush garden was barely planted. He looked thin and troubled.
I asked him how he felt.
His reply? “Like hell.”
His knee was aching. He asked for my help. It would forever be the only time to date my father would ever let me treat him.
As we sat before the garden, I placed acupuncture needles around his knee. He walked better and was amazed.
While I enjoyed treating him, I knew it was an act of desperation.
Only weeks later, my father was diagnosed with lung cancer.
The garden wilted away as Dad grew sicker. Our family magnetically came together to show our world of what we were made.
The Dooley garden may have wilted, but we grew into a more united family for the love of our patriarch.
The frightened sisters grew closer.
The troubled mother was the wife she promised to be in front of God, family, and friends – there for “worse,” not just better.
And the strong father had his strength ultimately tested.
The fall saw chemo and radiation, trial and error, despair mixed with hope.
The garden left us.
And then came spring again.
Just when things appear to be wilted and near death, they began to spring to life again.
Dad’s voice returned, followed by his weight. Then, his hair sprouted like the new buds in his garden.
My sister Kim sent me these pictures of Dad yesterday, working in his garden. Mom said he overplanted.
We can all see why.
Kim says he is constantly in his garden, first planting it and then nourishing it to grow more lush than it has ever stood.
I never saw something so beautiful as this new garden.
You can give up when things seem to be at dying in the garden. Or, you can fight through the winter and replant in the spring.
As always, it’s your call.
-Dr. Kathy Dooley
