libby's eyes

yesterday was supposed to be carol's last day at the hospital.  she retired...but she didn't make it in that last day.  her father passed away.

tonight, the ladies of mccain made their way to a small town far away to be there for our friend.  she was glad to have us there, yes - and as bad as this might sound - we were glad to be together again, although we were far from happy about the circumstances that brought us that way.

i don't know that i've ever told you about libby.  she was the clinical social worker at the unit before she retired a year ago, and she will always be a woman i deeply admire and respect. 

i've met few women who were stalked by an ex-inmate, but libby was.  she served on a dcc hearing board and denied promotion to the man.  he never forgot...and when he was finally released, he walked up to her at her night job, told her he knew where she lived, her phone number, and how to get to her.  then he walked away.  for weeks, her husband escorted her to and from work.  they slept with one eye open, looked over their shoulders when they were awake.  shortly after that, the ex-inmate was arrested for disemboweling a woman not too far from where libby lives.  he's serving a life sentence now.

that particular experience didn't affect her work.  she was social worker, patient advocate, a compassionate, empathetic fireball unafraid to tell inmate or officer what was what and where to get off.

i'll never forget how she looked, bowing up to the officer in charge of transportation when one of her clients - a cancer patient - was told he couldn't go to his doctor's appointment because the unit was too short staffed to get him there.  she was as fierce as a she-wolf.  and she made sure her client was seen by his physician.

and i'll never forget how she came in at 5 a.m. to sit with a young man who was dying.  his family was far away, the nurses were short staffed, and he thrashed so that he fell out of bed or banged his head.  she and another woman sat by his side and kept him from falling.  they couldn't do much more than that, but libby was not about to let him die alone and without some semblance of dignity.  he was a favorite among hospital staff - had done something terrible when he was younger and under the influence of drugs that he regretted profoundly.  never a trouble maker, always accepting of his fate.  for three days, she came in early and stayed late, and we, aware of the drama occurring just one floor above us, could feel the thrum of something undefinable surround us.  i've always believed it was libby's prayers.

i wish you could see libby's eyes...they're as grey as the sea, and just as deep, as though they've seen all and know too much.  wise. solemn.  but when she smiles, it reaches those eyes and lights them in an ethereal way.

no, she isn't a saint, but she's as close to one as i'll ever come.  she was with us tonight - the first time i've seen her since her retirement.  we hugged each other and she said the same words she spoke to me on my final day at the hospital - i love you.  you're so easy to love. 

i don't think that's it...i simply believe that libby has a surplus of love, and i was fortunate enough to soak up some of the overflow.