Ana

Here’s this week’s reflection. I hope it resonates with you and ask that, if you enjoyed, please comment and share on your social media. Heartfelt thanks for all your support!

Keeping the light on for you,

Carol

“Oh Baby, pleeeeze!” Ana purrs in her luxurious Latino brogue as she pauses the wine glass at her lips. “You’re livin’ life! It’s OK!” she offers against my anxious apologies of sparse communication. A rendezvous in the Windy City has brought us together to catch up and clink glasses in a toast to enduring friendship, no matter the passage of time.

Ana was my roommate and confidante in nurse anesthesia school. She was the class matriarch; a warm, wise woman during a time of chilling stress. We all learned from Ana’s empathy, grace, and spunk.

Being older and already having been around the block on a variety of topics compared to our younger classmates, Ana and I were fast friends. We shared a two-bedroom apartment with four other students. Though not all present at the same times, we still had occasional family-style dinners and group study sessions. There was also a fair bit of tension between six married thirty-somethings back in a bunk-bedded dorm away their spouses each week. Despite our gratitude for cheap lodging just across the parking lot from the hospital — the apartment boasted a single bathroom — technicolor temperaments often flared and agendas proved hysterically humorous and unabashedly annoying. 

Ana and I slogged through our master’s program which, in addition to the traditional sequence, included long clinical days. Fulfilling the avalanche of classroom requirements was embellished with the palpable angst of avoiding serious harm to human life. 

Academic loads, early morning starts in the operating room, and residing out of state, meant living at the dorm during the week. Ana and I seemed to always be on the same page and, when the other roommates had gone, we would sip wine together on occasional, overly exhausted Friday evenings. Unwilling to get behind the wheel, we would prop our feet up, admire the city lights outside our window, and reflect on our days in the trenches. I was childless at the time and Ana’s kids were teenagers, making an extra night at school a bit easier, safer and, at times, therapeutic.

A hallmark of Ana’s clinical practice was her undying compassion for the culture and well-being of “her people.” She adored all her patients but had a particular fondness for the Spanish-speaking. Her exhaustive preoperative interviews for younger Latino clients included unconventional inquiries regarding and encouraging their future academic pursuits. Ana was a formidably staunch advocate for education at any age. Pushing forty and back in class, she was a proud cheerleader for self-advancement, regardless of any real or perceived obstacles. Receiving our master’s hoods was one of the biggest days of her life; a day I am honored to have been witness to. 

Ana and I would occasionally meet over the coming years, picking up where we left off and continuing the conversation. Busy jobs, busier families, and living two states apart meant free time was at a premium. But we made it work regardless of how sparse the reconnects were.

One visit will stay in my mind forever. Ana had called to say she and her husband wanted to visit for the day. On their arrival, I immediately noticed two things: a handicapped license plate and her slowly deliberate gait. After warm hugs and greetings, Ana revealed that in addition to battling breast cancer (which I had known about), she now had multiple sclerosis and wanted to tell me in person. My heart fell. Her once ample Latino effervescence was now reduced to wan smiles and an alarmingly thin frame. Medication cocktails had temporarily stolen her vibrance and her expertise in patient care shifted to self-care as she and her family navigated rough seas. 

A subsequent visit to their place included two other women from our class. Ours had been a tight foursome during our training; now scattered among four states, we were privy to a rare, perfectly timed serendipitous reunion. The afternoon passed too quickly — as good times usually do — but in those hours the band was gloriously back together. Laughter is good for the soul and despite being further ravaged by her ailments, Ana was able to again add her special sauce, wearing a tee shirt that proclaimed: “This Bitch Bites Back.” And indeed, she did to the bitter end.

Ana’s last days were private. According to her family, she passed with a smile on her face; a testament to her strong faith and sense of gratitude. Laid out in a sequin dress, she undoubtedly passed with swagger through the Pearly Gates to eagerly join the fiesta of her afterlife. Another classmate and I surveyed her casket, smiling through our tears and affirming in unison: “Of course she’s in sequins!” Leave it to Ana to have spiced up even the most somber of occasions.

After the graveside service, Ana’s husband ushered us to the trunk of his car and lovingly presented each of us with a bottle of wine in honor of his beloved. Our practice of having shared a glass with each other after rough OR days was not lost on him. Ana’s parting instructions had included the directive to “take care of my girls,” and he has done so with aplomb. He continues to check in with our foursome to this day. While our conversations are sporadic and brief, the connection is vital. His imposing, retired-steel-mill exterior continues to perpetuate Ana’s tender yet saucy care and concern. 

I recently came across a case study Ana had penned in school. Characteristically thorough, its page count made me chuckle as I skimmed it again, recalling the time commitment and trees killed for such assignments. No detail escaped her – no surprise from a serious student who valued life and sought wisdom even in the minutiae. 

Ana continues to smile at me from her picture near my desk. The beautiful woman, whose spirit refused to break, continually offers her eternal happiness no matter what life throws my way. I feel privileged to have known her and miss her countenance. But I also know that, with a sprinkling of sass, sequins, and kindness, anything is possible.

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