Swapping Stories

Articles

Holly Winter
Living The Life Of Holly

Swapping Stories
June 7, 2003

“Mint?” She asked.

“Sure. Thanks.” I said, accepting the little green individually wrapped mint. This old lady and I had taken an instant liking to each other. Why? Oh. Who knows. Maybe it was because she was in her eighties and showing as much leg as I was, in her little short dress. Gotta like her for that. Or maybe it was the simple fact that we are on a four hour plane ride and both looking for a good conversation.

“I got it from my hotel. Aren’t they incredible?” She sighed. “They were my husband’s favorite.”

“He had good taste.” I said.

“He has been gone now for eight years.”

“I’m so sorry.” I said. “That’s a long time to be away from someone you love.” And I really was sorry. I was. Many people wouldn’t be genuinely sorry. But I know what it’s like sitting next to a stranger on a plane and swapping stories. It’s my very favorite kind of therapy. You can say things to a stranger on a plane that you could never say any other time in your life.

“He shouldn’t have died.” She said, softly.

I sighed. I thought about my friend, Mark. He travels a lot, too. He would never ask her the details of her story. Well. I’m not him.

“What happened?”

“He went into the hospital. Chest pains.” She leaned forward. “We had lived in Florida for about five months.” She shook her head. “He shouldn’t have died.”

“I’m so sorry. Too bad he didn’t have more time in Florida.” I said, encouraging her to continue.

“His cardiologist called me from the ER and said that he was fine. He wanted to keep him in the hospital on a heart monitor for a few days, just to be sure. He was due to be home by the weekend.”

“So you didn’t even know that he was that sick?”

“No. The cardiologist messed up. He stuck him on the wrong floor of the hospital and forgot about him. Didn’t even have a heart monitor on him.”

“What? That can happen?”

“No. It can’t. It shouldn’t. My husband had a massive heart attack right there in the hospital and died right there where he should have had all the help he needed.”

“Oh. No. That’s so awful. How have you been able to deal with losing him in that way?” I asked, taking her hand.

She squeezed my hand. “Time. Time is the only thing that heals. Time and a big lawsuit. I tried to take away that doctor’s license. He killed a lot of people. I found that out. I don’t know if they took away his license, but I do know that he doesn’t practice in Florida anymore.”

“Man. But. How have you started to trust again? Trust that good things will happen to you again?” I asked.

“Time. I promise.” She said. “Time cures everything.” She looked me over. “And what is keeping you from trusting that good things will happen for you?”

“Oh. I don’t know.”

She waited.

“I know that the number one rule in life is that change happens.”

She smiled. “I like that. Did you make that up?”

I laughed. “Um. I have had so much change that maybe I could sign off on that one.”

She waited.

“And I know that my secret is to decide that each change is for the better, no matter how crooked the change appears to be at the time.”

“Oh. I like that too.” She said, patting my hand. “I think that I will start saying that too. I wish you had told me that eight years ago. Where were you then?”

“No matter what, I can’t shake this new label of epilepsy that the doctors have plastered on my forehead. And. I’m not taking it well. I don’t want to be sick. I don’t want to be tranquilized. Work is giving me such a headache about being epileptic. And I am tired of spending all of my time wringing my hands because I am practically incapable of making decisions.”

“Oh dear.”

“I was always quick at making decisions. Now I am like a little baby, needing help to decide the simplest task. It’s a side effect of the medication.”

She squeezed my hand again. “That is how I was after my husband died. Maybe you are just learning how to fit into your new shoes.” She tilted her head to the side. “So. You need a little extra help right now. Who cares?”

“I care. I care a lot. I don’t want to be this way. It limits my choices on so many things. So many things…”

She waited.

“I do know how to view this from the positive. There are a lot of positives. I’m very lucky in so many ways. I remind myself of that every day.”

“Oh. Me too. I have a lot of positives too.” She smiled.

“Name one.” I challenged.

“I have met this wonderful man. We go out dancing!”

“Really?” I smiled.

Her eyes were shining. “Yes. He’s a great dancer. It’s so much fun.”

“And how did you meet?”

“I was introduced to him at a dance.”

“Well. Darlin-woman. I hope that you keep on dancing.” I said, accepting another mint.

“And. You. You need to start dancing. Don’t wait for things to be a certain way. Dance with what you have. Because, it ain’t all that bad.” She laughed, patting my bare leg. “Anyone who has dancing legs like you have needs to dance through life.”

“Ok. I’ll work on it.” I laughed.

“That’s what I’ve learned. Dance with what you have. Forget about waiting for things to change.” She said as put her head on her pillow in preparation for a nap. “Things might not change. Stop waiting.”

In a few moments my little sage of information was fast asleep.

I listened to her echo. “Things might not change. Stop waiting. Dance with what you have.”

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About the author: Holly Winter is a teacher and a writer and a flight attendant living in Denver, Colorado, USA. She can be reached at her website or email: Holly@livingthelifeofholly.com

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