Yipppeeeeeeeee Dog!

In August 2012, I left my job working for a multispecialty clinic to work for a clinic that specialized in orthopaedics.  Having worked with ortho for 19 years the bones and joints of the body were about the only thing that did not change in this transition! It was difficult learning new names, faces, a computer system, programs, and the various processes. To say it was overwhelming is an understatement!

Most of my coworkers were working from home, which was what I would go back to doing after two weeks of training on site.  My first week there my team leader was on site to walk me through things and help me learn my job.  I remember making the drive home after work each day and being absolutely drained.  My brain was on overload.  I think the second night I was in bed at 6:30.  I was just mentally exhausted trying to take in so much new information.

The second week on site I was working on my own, except for one coworker who worked in the office, Melinda.

I hesitantly went to her with questions at first.  While a long-time employee, she was in the process of learning some new things too so I didn't want to bother her, but Melinda told me to always come to her with questions and reminded me that there is no such thing as a silly question. She was so encouraging, helpful, happy, and patient!  She helped me immensely that second week and I was soon back to working from home again and getting into a routine.

Of course working from home means most of our department's communication is done by email.  I quickly learned that Melinda's joy shone through in her emails too.  Every email we received from Melinda would start out, "Helllooooooooooooo!"  You could be having the craziest day imaginable, but when one of Melinda's emails popped up you could not help but smile and laugh.

And every time there was something to celebrate Melinda emailed an enthusiastic "Yippppppeeeeeeeeeee dog!"   If she was that infectious and happy via email, you can imagine what it was like to be with her in person.

Our department gets together occasionally for a Friday night dinner or a Saturday lunch.  We live in various communities throughout central Iowa, so it is always fun when we can take time from our busy schedules to get together and catch up in person.  We had a get together shortly after I started.  Melinda had to work late due to the new duties she had, but she ordered appetizers for us ahead of time, stopped by to visit with us for a bit, then had to head home.  She loved cats and had to get home to take care of her "kids." 

Melinda was a breast cancer survivor and obviously loved life and everyone she came in contact with. She was the cheerleader of our department. I never saw Melinda with a frown on her face.  

Last fall she was diagnosed with uterine cancer.  She took time off work to have surgery and treatment and then recover.  We sent cards back and forth while she was recuperating and made plans to get together for coffee once she was  better.  

So last spring with Melinda on the mend some of my coworkers and I met her for coffee on a Saturday morning.  She had lost her hair, but not her love for life.  She was so excited to be getting back to doing the things she enjoyed, including work.

She returned to work shortly after that and of course her first email was "Hellloooooooooooooo... I'm back!"   I know there was a huge smile on the face of each department member as they opened that email.  On another morning we got this email from her: "I am cancer free!  Yipppppeeeeeeeeee dog!"  We were so happy for Melinda and were all emailing her back with "congratulations!"  and "yeahhhh!"  We loved having her back at work and hearing from her by email.  

Life was as it should be again.   Our cheerleader was back. 

Melinda had a day here and there where she didn't feel well and a few months later we received another email from Melinda,  unlike any email we had ever received from her before:  "My cancer has returned."  

If the words weren't devastating enough the tone of that email told us so much about how she was feeling.   I can remember quietly saying "oh no" and am sure my coworkers reacted in the same way when opening that email.  

Not Melinda.  

A third diagnosis?  

Though my faith is very strong, I found myself asking, "God, how much does Melinda have to go through? Why her?"  I know my coworkers voiced the same thoughts.  

Melinda decided to retire at the end of August, but several weeks before her official retirement date she was in the hospital.  Little did we know that she would not be going home again. 

When I would talk with Melinda on the phone she was always reassuring me.  "It's okay.  It's really okay.  God is everything."  She would tell me what was going on with her treatments.  I would always ask if there was anything she needed.  She always said, "just pray."    

Then in one phone call she told me her cancer was terminal.  We had feared this and had been expecting it, but hearing it made it real.   She requested no visitors.  So we did what we could:  sent her cards, called, and prayed for her. Her faith never waivered.  She had Bible verses read to her while in the hospital.   I would write some of my favorite Bible verses in the cards I sent to her. 

In my last phone call with her she said she was having pain daily. She was going to have a minor procedure the following day. She had received the maximum number of aggressive treatments she could for her cancer, but was going to have an additional one so that it might give the doctors information to treat future patients.  Again, that was Melinda.  Before hanging up  I told Melinda we loved her and she said, "I love you too." 

After two months of being in the hospital Melinda declined and was moved to hospice just a week ago.  She was kept comfortable and was in good hands as always. Some of my coworkers and other friends of Melinda's walked in the Komen Iowa Race for the Cure on Saturday as "Melinda's Katz" in her honor.  Melinda knew several weeks ago that we were going to do this so we took a group photo and put it on Facebook immediately, so the person with her at hospice knew we were there and walking for her.  I don't know if Melinda was aware of us walking that day, but I felt she was with us every step of the way.  

The next morning, on a beautiful fall day, Melinda passed away quietly and gracefully, just as she would have wanted.  

While I had only known Melinda 14 months she had a huge impact on me, as she did everyone who was blessed enough to meet her.  She reminded me so much of my Mom.  She had the same positive attitude and love for life that my Mom did.  It was impossible not to gravitate toward her. 

I know that God never gives us more than we can handle.  And maybe only someone with the unfailing faith and positive outlook that Melinda had could handle 3 cancer diagnoses and still be praising God at the end.  

I am so happy for Melinda that she is no longer in pain and is home with the God she loved so much and never stopped loving and thanking.  But it is hard to think of not seeing that smiling face again, or receiving a cheery email from her.

At times I think my faith is child like, but isn't that what God asks of us?  To have the faith of a child?  So it is easy for me to imagine that when Melinda passed away and entered Heaven God heard an exuberant, "Hellloooooooooo!" that had Him smiling immediately and thinking "Yes, she has arrived!"  

God had to look at her and proudly say,  "Well done thy good and faithful servant, well done."   

And in true Melinda form she must have given a resounding...enthusiastic "Yippppeeeeeeeeeee dog!"