Cheerleader

Hello.

For the past few evenings, when I watch TV, a Mutual of Omaha commercial comes on. Honestly, their commercials are confusing. I watch them, and then look at my husband, and ask him if he got it. We both must be dense because more often than not he does not get them either.

Except for last night.

The commercial depicted a gentleman, who for some reason, became disabled by losing a leg. The gentleman spoke briefly about his situation and then said he had an "Aha" moment and realized that losing his leg was not the worst thing that could happen in his life. Then the Mutual of Omaha symbol came on the screen, and an announcer said something noble and it was over.

As our usual practice, my husband looked over at me and said, "Did you get that?" I replied, "You know Ron, I did. All through the commercial I saw the faces of my patients who experienced similar situations."

As a physical therapist, over the years, I have worked with numerous amputee patients. Something I distinctly remember in the first few treatment sessions when I worked with these patients, was that it did not really matter that I knew my anatomy and physiology. It did not really matter that I knew all about exercise and assistive devices.

What my patients needed was a cheerleader. If I could help them to sort through the "where do we go now" of the situation, they would be on board.

Everyone needs a cheerleader.

For the last twelve months, almost to the day, I have been looking for full time employment in either the field of Physical Therapy or Elementary Education. I have degrees in both, and in both, hiring is extremely limited. Because of the practicality of being near my disabled son, I would like to stay in this area. Because of the uncertainty of the economy, health care and state funding, jobs in this area are scarce.

I am in a "where do I go now" situation. I need a cheerleader.

To be honest with you, I feel all cheerleadered out. I think I spent all my "optimism," my "let us not look at the down side," and my "this is a livable situation," on my patients and my son's cancer fight. I do not have any more reserve. For the first time in a very long time, I am not feeling very hopeful, and am not sure there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

I hope that things will turn around soon. I really do. I have so many things to share with children or patients yet. I have so much left to do. I really want to feel connected to my professional aspirations again. I want to be a cheerleader once more.

I am trying very hard to

have hope.
Donna