#she'd take the everloving piss out of me for this write up funny enough

[izzy-b-hands]

I know everyone on here only knew her via my occasional posts about work (back when I worked at the clinic in ND), but I wanted to post a small something about Pam, in honour of her passing today.

Pam had been at the clinic longer than any of us. And she was truly one of those employees that helped keep things running. She knew each doctor (but the MDs in particular, always the pickier and more needy than the ODs) like the back of her hand, in both scheduling requirements and overall likes and hates and needs. At first, she scared the ever-loving fuck out of me. She could be gruff, and occasionally outright mean, though I will always be grateful to her for the kindness she showed me compared to other trainees. Some of that may have come at first because she knew/worked alongside my mum for a few years prior to my being hired, but in time I found out that she simply did like me. Appreciated that I wanted to work hard and be better at everything in my life. Understood that life hadn't necessarily been kind or fair to me or my family and understood that well, because it hadn't been to her either.

Occasionally she'd be gone from work due to her Crohn's, and other chronic issues, and that was only what she'd tell you about. The implication was that, while she overall was quite happy with how things had ended up, there had been a lot of rough shit in between that had toughened Pam up a lot. It made her seem impossible to get to know to some, but I can say it was worth the work. Underneath the shell she'd had to grow to get through, there was a very kind, understanding woman who genuinely wanted the best for those she saw as doing their best in a world that's not easy for anyone to live in, even in the best of times and circumstances.

I admit, we did all encourage less than ideal parts of each other. She smoke too much and drank too much (and during the time in my life when I drank, we overdid it on her favourite long island iced teas more than once during happy hour after work.) But it helped to deal with things as work at the clinic got harder and things changed, unfortunately for the worse both for staff and patients (but I digress on that. The place is still running with Pam and I and many others gone, like any other privately owned rural clinic. When they're one of the few places open for care, they always straggle on no matter what they do to anyone else.) None of the above mentioned changed how fucking hard she worked though, and how she'd put her own job on the line to help out coworkers and patients alike whenever the chance arose.

That said, we helped get each other through the rougher days, and she gave me fantastic life advice in the times in between. Advice that finally helped get me out of ND, in fact, when it became clear that living there was no longer safe. Some of her best bits that I've engraved into my head are: 'there's always another job out there, another place to live, another person to meet that might be a friend to you. Don't let despair override your chance at something better, kinder, or easier. Take the treats that you can in life, whether that's a good drink or a favourite food or outing (she enjoyed the casino herself.) Don't worry too much about overindulging, because the time here is too fucking short anyway for it to matter in the way you think it will. Live your life, and feel it all in full, because it'll go by you faster than you expect.'

So tonight, with Housemate, I'm going to try and take her advice. I'm going to let myself be sad and miss her. I'll let myself be sad that it happened the way it did (barely a few days in hospice, from a cancer that it seems she didn't know about until very near the end. I only hope they had good meds to help her not hurt so much and that they let her have a few drinks and cigarettes if she wanted them.) We'll eat a good dinner, with food and drink that we like, and we'll look to see what we can send for flowers to her funeral (her sisters and nephews, I'm told, are doing their best to set it all up, but aside from that and past coworkers, I don't know if there's much of anyone else left to go to it or send anything. The least I can do to thank her for treating me with kindness and care when others didn't is to send flowers, I think.)

And I'll have a little, non-alcoholic, toast to her life and memory. May her memory be a blessing, and may whatever there is after this life be kind to Pam. She deserves that and more.