Back in April I asked for your help. In the post {are you with me} I made a request for your good wishes for my sister who was in the hospital. You came through for me. To many of you it may have been the introduction to Shannon. For many it was my introduction to you as you left a comment for the first time. It was a wonderful few days to see all the kind words pour in and to hear Shannon's reaction after being put in the spotlight. What I'm realizing now is that because I shared her with you here, you are all invested in her. YOU know that she mattered to me. You are offering your kind words to me this time. You get it.
In the last 13 days of her life I was privileged to spend every possible minute with her. I witnessed grace. I witnessed strength. I witnessed faith. I witnessed love. I witnessed power – power of God, power of medicine, and power of spirit. I watched nurses who knew by experience that the end was near yet continued to give Shannon respect and dignity and control. I will never forget some of the gestures they made to her husband Andy, and to our family, to make us more comfortable as we held vigil. I will never forget that many of them wore PINK - pink shirts or pink socks, as though there was a Shannon Street Team. She was dressed in pink so we got her groovy pink socks to change into everyday. The socks got comments from anyone who had to come into the room – visitors or staff. Pink is her color. 
I have this idea. I want to acknowledge the staff on 7B of the U of M Hospital where my sister spent the last 4 months of her life. I especially want to recognize those who I got to know – the professionals who cared for her and cared about her. I think it would be a very powerful thing to see a box of PINK socks show up on the 7th floor. With the box will come a note that will explain the gesture and the message.
I will tell the story of my sister who courageously battled cystic fibrosis. I will share the story of how I watched nurses and aides and therapists and doctors let Shannon be in control. They offered her respect, dignity, privacy, and honesty. I will share how we were all wearing PINK the last few days of her life – family and staff. I will share how important their role is – not only in the care as described on the charts, but in what they offer that is off the charts. Off the charts.
I want there to be hoards of pink socks that spill out on the counter of the nursing station. I want the staff on 7B to feel thanked, to feel appreciated, to feel validated. I want them to know I was paying attention. I want them to know I saw what they did….I was listening and watching and recognized the angel within them. I want each person (man or woman) to get a pair of pink socks and to put them on the next day and think about the shift they are about to begin. How they conduct themselves may have a huge impact on someone that day. {Shouldn't we all think that way everyday?} Someone is healing, someone is hurting, someone is lonely, someone is dying. Someone may be dying. How a nurse treats the patient really makes a difference. How each of us walk the halls can make a difference. Holding someone's hand as they die doesn't get you a bonus or a gold star on your paycheck if you are a nurse. But it might get you a pair of Pink Socks that are an offering of gratitude and validation to be worn with pride as the practice of making a difference continues.
I want there to be an a-ha moment on 7B that radiates to 7A and the rest of the 7th floor….and the 6th floor, and the 5th floor, and the coffee shop, and the pharmacy, and the clinic where the Cystic Fibrosis patients go each month,….and the nearby hospitals, and – well you get it. I want THINK PINK to be more than Breast Cancer awareness….I want THINK PINK to be more than Shannon and Cystic Fibrosis awareness. I want it to be more than being about Pink Socks. In fact, forget THINK PINK and make that PINK WINK. I want each of us to begin every day with the awareness that what we do and how we behave may directly affect someone….As you put on your socks, or your shoes, say a little prayer or give a little thought to how you will use this day, every day. We can all wear a wink.
So here is the mission: send me a pair of pink socks. That's it. Men's or women's, long or short. A little or a lot of pink, any shade – dark or light. I will gather until mid August. And I will send in one humungo box to the University of Minnesota Hospital, floor 7B, where they take care of patients with Cystic Fibrosis. It's one of the ways I want to honor the memory of my sister. It's one of the ideas I had for offering thanks to the caregivers. When I asked for your good wishes I told you the nickname for CF is Sixty-Five Roses. So you guessed it….
Send to P.O. Box 73, Piscataway, NJ 08855. Let's call the due date August 15. Many thanks. I close my eyes and think of the dozens of you who have reached out to me at this time and I am so moved. Truly.
