"A happy heart is good medicine and a cheerful mind works healing, but a broken spirit dries up the bones."  Proverbs 17:22 (TAB)

It was one of those days. . .one of those lazy, hazy spring Texas days.  The kind of day that was just warm enough to make you want to take a nap if you sat still too long. . .the kind of day when you opened the windows and let out the winter smells enticing the spring inside. . .the dust particles were dancing on sunbeams and the occasional robin would chortle a tune as we set inside. . .

I had visited her many times over the months.  Our relationship had grown from wary to friendly.  Often we just talked about our lives, thoughts, people we loved, people we didn't.  Often we would read the scripture and pray.  But today all conversation had petered out like a road going into the woods. . .it became a trail. . .and then just forest with the odd word here and there. . .we were

"I'm bored." she declared with decided emphasis on the bored part.  "Bored?" Do I bore you?"  "No.  I'm just bored."  With a sigh I looked at the spring sunshine, filtered with winter breezes but promising a hot Texas summer and admitted, "me, too."  We looked at each other and giggled.  So, what do we do next, I wondered. . .as I was pitching ideas to break the doldrums, she had already formulated a plan.

The house was a small one and her husband, in an effort to meet her needs had placed his recliner in such a way that he had a clear sight line to her and the TV.  As he was hard of hearing, he had put a wireless doorbell button on her over the bed table (OBT) with the ringer next to his recliner.  Thus he could sit in comfort in his recliner and read the paper or watch TV while keeping a semi-eagle eye on her.  If he was in the kitchen or had the TV on so loud he couldn't hear it, she had to only ring the doorbell and he would respond as quickly as his 80+ year old body would let him.  Needless to say, she also had a clear line of sight to him as well.

"Watch this," she said, pressing the doorbell button.  In he came, "what do you need, honey?"  "Could I have a glass of water?" she asked innocently.  I looked at the table, observing a full glass of ice water waiting to be tasted but he obediently went off to get her a fresh glass of ice water.  Waiting until he had returned to his recliner and began to read the paper, she again pushed the button.  He came in, and she requested a cracker.  As he left, I began to see the light of impishness glow in her eyes and a smile on her lips.  Dutifully he brought the crackers and then made his way back to his chair (at this point it could no longer be called a recliner).  She pushed the button, like a jack in the box he jumped up, fulfilled her silly request and went back to begin the game again.  As the afternoon wore on, we began to laugh and giggle at being so silly.  I took my turn at pressing the button and would end up saying, "oh, my! I didn't mean to press that button, I'm so sorry." Or, "I forgot what she said she wanted, what was it you said you needed?" To which she would "forget" what it was she had never requested.  No longer bored the afternoon shadows lengthened and it was time for me to leave.  We had spent the afternoon giggling like schoolgirls while wearing out the dear caregiver.

As I left, I apologized to him for putting him through it.  I felt bad that we had tired him just for our own amusement.  He placed his arm around me and looked into my face, "Do you know how long it's been since I've heard my wife laugh?" he asked.  I shook my head.  "It was worth every moment to see a smile on her face and hear her laugh again.  It was worth every ache and pain.  You keep coming and making my wife laugh."

Dear Lord, help me to remember that even when we are facing death, we need to laugh, to giggle, to enjoy a sense of the ridiculous.  Not just for the sake of patient but for the heart of the person who is losing the one he/she loves.  Remind me that laughter is a medicine just as much as any pill or lotion or patch and help me to bring a smile or giggle to my patients when they need it.  Amen.