Comfort Zone

Sometimes I am so close to the edge of my comfort zone it makes me a better caregiver.
Today was one of those days.

I have a new client who is but a few short years older than I am. She lays abed, foley catheter in, dressings on heels, coccyx, op site meds... awww

I look at her and I see myself. Just the version where I marry a slightly older man and have 3 kids. I attain my dream home and my husband adores me. The only kicker is that I get cancer in an unusual place and it turns out to be terminal.

My heart is three sizes too big today. There is nothing I would not do to make that woman more comfortable. It has nothing to do with her lifestyle of privilege; I would feel the same if she was in assisted living or a hospice bed. We are the same under the skin. All of us.