Nature

Nature meant the most to me when I realize how much I had taken it for granted. It was, I discovered, like my health and having my family around constantly, something I didn't think about how much I loved until it wasn't there. The apartment in Boston was gorgeous. Two bedrooms on the third floor of a building with the most beautiful stained glass windows in the hallway. It was also however, in a city and a few blocks to the nearest park. And, as we discovered much to my pug's horror, a large parking lot away to the nearest patch of grass. Snickers the pug, a dog of high standards, held out on even the most urgent of bathroom trips and refused to poop on pavement. I can't say as I blamed him.

Although our apartment had all the comforts of home it lacked something critical. Lucky for me, My Mum had anticipated this need. Soon after we moved in we filled our little balcony with potted plants and flowers. A homemade sign from my grandfather reading "Katie's Garden" was placed in the front of the array of pots. Any hours I had free (and during which I was able to sit up) were spent in that little garden. Looking at the pictures now I realize how comical it was. All of the empty balconies that were used only for setting empty bottles or spare things on were in sharp contrast to my beautiful garden three stories up. You saw a blank building and then our apartment's explosion of greenery. This is how we earned the title, "Flower People" among all of the people in our building who knew English as their second or third language (every apartment but one other than us). I was so grateful for those plants. They took me back to where I needed to be. When at home in Maine during my treatment I found my peace by stretching out on the lawn in the middle of my Mum's expansive flower garden. Those potted plants brought that world to me.

To me, the most exquisite nature in Boston is the Healing Garden at Mass General's Yawkey Building. It was as if someone with a budget far larger than mine had seen the need for nature in the lives of cancer patients and made it a gorgeous reality. Eight floors up in the middle of Boston and the middle of the mini-city that is the Mass General Hospital campus was an unbelievable garden. It was a long walk from the elevators down the sterile hallways to get to the Healing Garden. The ramp going up to the room was so gradual that it almost felt like a transition time to prepare yourself for what lay behind the doors at the top.

For all the memories that seem to not exist due to the magical effect of IV Ativan... I can still remember the Healing Garden perfectly. It seems like that would only make sense because I spent at least part of most days there, but other parts of my life have been completely forgotten. It's as if months of my life never even happened. Considering how those months went, it is a blessing really, but it's still unnerving. But every inch of that sunroom and garden feel like they are burned into my brain. When we go for checkups I still love to visit.
Immediately when you walk in you can pick a smooth stone ("worry stones") out of a pot and sign the guestbook. My Dad has an entire collection of Healing Garden stones because I always made sure I had a "good one" to give him for the weekends when he visited. My best find was the one that resembled a heart. A slightly misshapen heart, but still, a heart. Even remembering the perfection of that room overwhelms me. It is green everywhere you look. The contrast of that room with all of the other rooms in that building made my knees buckle on more than one occasion. I felt as if the room almost spoke to me, "Go ahead. You can relax here. Breathe. Rest."

The dark and shiny wood of the bench in the sun room that I always sought out was certainly not the most comfortable place I have ever curled up. And yet, I spent more hours napping on that bench that anyone could count. We started calling it "Katie's Resting Place" after my favorite childhood book "Lovable Furry Old Grover's Resting Places." It gave me a chance to rest my tired body and, most importantly, put my head down. It was the only place outside of the bed infusion rooms that I could put my head down. The rest of the time was spent resting my head on my Mum's shoulder. I didn't cry on her shoulder a lot but I certainly slept on it plenty! The sun room was also a lovely way to combat staring at blank walls when I was unable to sleep. Instead of the cold atmosphere of the hospital rooms I was able to look around at plants everywhere the eye could see. Ferns, giant shiny leaves on potted trees, plants hung from the ceiling, gorgeous orchids, and everything you could think of. Never has a room created the serenity that the Healing Garden sun room has.
Outside was the best part. Despite being in the middle of  the noise of a city and the noise of the hospital, the garden was always peaceful and quiet. You could only hear the faint sounds of life eight stories down but mostly you heard the birds. If you looked past the plexiglass that surrounded the edges it was easy to forget that you were in man-made nature. It had assorted benches and chairs that were each sectioned off into semi-private areas. My favorite bench was between two full-size trees. You had a perfect view of the city and on hot days the slight breeze was wonderful. It was also just far enough away from the water feature to keep you from needing to pee constantly! Another favorite activity was to kick off my shoes and walk around in the grass barefoot. That was definitely not something I could do the the park nearby where we lived. The constant ever changing variety of different plants and flowers was always a welcome distraction. I also loved to look at the funny garden statues that depicted medical professionals as little aliens landing - complete with their little spaceship. It was utterly surreal to have such a complete garden in that location but somehow they pulled it off. We had sun or shade, grass, plants, and almost miraculously, healthy full-size trees.
If anyone had told me five years ago that one of my favorite places in nature would be eight stories up and in a hospital I would have thought they were crazy. But the Healing Garden changed all of that. Yes, it was probably closer to "artificial" than "natural" but it brought this country girl the plants, trees, and grass she needed to keep sane.  It makes me wonder about the people who had the idea for the garden initially. I like to think that they stretched out on their front lawns as ants crawled over them to keep from going crazy during their treatments too. The past-time I started to help me feel more "grounded" during the chaos of cancer revealed itself eight stories above ground. How you can feel closer to the earth and calmed when you're actually that high up and over the building that has caused you such distress is beyond me but that's the magic effect of nature.