It's Not Just Hello

Yesterday morning I woke up with an earache. I didn't think too much about it because one of my ears pretty much always has an ache. If I had a nickel for every time I've gone to my doctor and said, "I think I have another ear infection," only to have her tell me I didn't, I'd be one rich gal. And if I had a nickel for every time I've been at the doctor for a different reason and my doctor said, "Your ear has to be killing you because it's badly infected," I'd be even richer. I think my ear pain can be likened to the frog in the boiling water story ... you know the one ... you put a frog into cold water in a pot on the stove and slowly turn up the heat, and old Mr. Frog doesn't even try to jump out. By the time Mr. Frog realizes his goose, or frog as the case may be, is cooked, he's already a goner. It's the same thing with my ear ... it's generally hard for me to know when I have a legitimate or full-blown ear infection because I'm so accustomed to having pain that I often don't realize the water, or my eardrum as the case may be, is beginning to boil.

I went on to work yesterday, telling myself that I was fine and that my ear was just doing its normal painful thing and that the pain would lessen after a while. But as the day wore on, so did my ear pain, and by the end of the day, all I wanted to do was go home, put hot rags on my ear, snuggle on the couch with Ollie and watch television. Thankfully, every once in a while, I actually listen to my gut and I make a smart decision, which is why I decided to stop at the walk-in clinic on my way home last night. When the nurse told me I was running a slight fever, my first thought was, "Well, crap," followed shortly by, "I bet it's my stupid ear." The doctor only had to take a quick peek inside my ear to confirm my suspicion ... stupid, stupid ear. Two prescriptions and a shot in my butt later, I was on my way to the pharmacy hoping there wouldn't be many people waiting because all I wanted to do was ... well, you know.

Since it was going to be only a 15-minute wait for my prescriptions, and since by then I was feeling pretty darn lousy, I sat down in one of the chairs in the small waiting area near the pharmacy windows. I had been sitting there for about 5 minutes when I noticed two women walk up to the counter to drop off a prescription. I noticed them because I knew them ... I noticed them because we used to attend the same church ... I noticed them because there was I time when I believed we were close friends. It's been almost four years since I've seen the two women, and as you might guess, our friendships didn't exactly end under the best of circumstances. I sat glued to the chair in the waiting area with my palms sweating and my stomach churning, praying they would leave the counter and go the other way. The moment I saw them turn in my direction, I knew there was no way they wouldn't see me ... there was nowhere for me to run ... there was nowhere for me to hide. The moment they saw me, I knew I had a decision to make ... I could allow the judgment they had once imposed upon me cause me to lower my head in shame and stare down at the floor beneath my feet, or I could muster up every ounce of courage and strength within me, ignore the fact that the ache in my heart had quickly surpassed the ache in my ear, stand up, look them in the eye and say hello.

I chose to do the latter ... I stood up from the chair and walked toward the two women, and I can assure you that each one of those five steps felt as though it was a mile. I even managed a smile as I extended my hand and said, "Hi ... how are you?" I wish with all my heart that my pharmacy encounter with my former friends last night had a happy ending ... you have no idea how desperately I wish I could tell you that time had indeed healed all the wounds and that the three of us embraced and engaged in polite conversation. But the truth is that the two women stopped and looked at me standing there with my outstretched hand and a smile on my face and they turned and walked away. Two women who once ate meals in my home, came to my children's weddings, attended Christian women's conferences with me, walked with me, spent hours and hours and hours talking with me, laughing with me, crying with me ... those two women stopped close enough to me last night to look directly into my eyes and then they turned and walked away without saying a word. 

For one brief moment, I thought about shouting, "Hey! It's just hello, you know ... that's all, just hello. You won't get any of my gay germs by just saying hello." But of course, I didn't. I lowered my head and went back to the waiting area and sat down. When the gal at the counter said my prescriptions were ready, I paid, picked up the bag, walked to my car and drove home. When I opened the door to come inside, my little Ollie came running to me as fast as his little wiener dog legs could run ... tail wagging, tags jingling, ears flapping. I scooped him up into my arms and finally let loose the tears I'd been struggling to hold in since the encounter at the pharmacy. It took a few minutes, but I pulled myself together, fixed something to eat, heated up a hot pack for my ear, curled up on the couch and went to sleep. 

I stayed home from work today because I was still running a fever this morning and my ear felt as though it might explode ... the first sick day I've taken in more than a year and a half. I've been asleep a good part of the day, and I'm feeling much better ... thank God for antibiotics, hot packs and a faithful little wiener dog to keep me company. During the time I've been awake today, I've thought a lot about what happened last night at the pharmacy, and there's something I need to say. That exchange last night wasn't about just saying hello ... it wasn't about that at all, friends. It's not just hello ... it's common courtesy. It's not just hello ... it's being a decent human being. It's not just hello ... it's practicing what you preach. It's not just hello at all, my friends ... it's knowing that everyone has value and worth. It's not just hello at all ... not at all ... not at all ... not at all. It's honor and integrity and strength of character and respect. It's being able to look at myself in the mirror last night and know that I did the right thing ... it's being able to look at myself in the mirror today and tomorrow and the day after that and all the rest of my days and know that it's always far, far, far more than just hello.