Lyrics from my song “Angel in the Sky.”
I had a very early appointment at the hospital to prepare me for my upcoming breast cancer radiation treatment. I would get a CAT scan and tattoo markings, and my radiation was scheduled to begin in two weeks.
I was relieved that traffic was light, because I’d spent a lot of energy worrying about how much time it would take getting there. I had hardly slept, but that was probably due to the estrogen suppressant medication I was taking. I would be on it for five years and hoped I’d adjust to the side effects soon.
A rush of melancholy overwhelmed me as I drew closer to the facility. This was actually the same hospital where my son Jason had died 32 years ago. It had a specialized cardiac unit and I’d spent a lot of time there. Now it was also the only radiation center though my medical plan that served the Los Angeles area.
While waiting at a stoplight, I noticed a familiar restaurant where I used to eat when Jason was undergoing his countless procedures. I felt a lump in my throat and brushed away a few brimming tears.
I parked and was glad I had gotten there early. When I passed a sign that said “Cancer Center,” I felt a pang. The receptionist was extremely kind and validated my parking stub, which was nice.
The radiation technician patiently explained everything about this appointment. I put on a gown and was soon lying on a hard table with special cushions for my butt and legs. The metal arm holders were uncomfortable. Still, I smiled and allowed peace to fill me as the time ticked by.
When the CAT scan was finished, it was time for the tattoo. I felt a sharp sting and then it was done. In two weeks, I would return for my one week of daily radiation treatments.
As I was leaving, I couldn’t shake the emotions that were bubbling up. Only two days earlier, it had been Jason’s death anniversary – so that made sense. But then I surprised myself.
I walked over to a receptionist and asked her a quick question.
I said slowly, “I was wondering if you could tell me if a certain doctor still works here. He was my son’s former doctor.”
In my head, I truly wanted to say that he was my deceased son.
The receptionist couldn’t find him in her system. But she was persistent and told me she would look on Google. She repeated the doctor’s name and said, “Is this him?”
It was!
She wrote down a number on a scrap of paper. “Try calling this and it should connect you to his office.”
I thanked her. I was overwhelmed with emotion as I headed to my car.
I am mostly healed up from my August 23rd lumpectomy.
I came home from the appointment feeling very emotional. I took a deep breath and called the number on that scrap of paper. It went to voicemail and I left a detailed message.
A lovely crystal gift from a blogging friend shimmers next to me. I’ve been blessed to receive so much support.
A supportive card I received.
A few days later when no one returned my call, I figured it probably wasn’t the right number. It was time for me to do some research.
I could always mail this doctor a letter. I wanted to share with him that he was actually part of Jason’s story – the one that I published as a paperback book named “Beside Me Always.”
I could enclose the book with a letter to him. But I needed an address.
For thirty minutes, I was on the phone with different departments. Each one had long repetitive menus and when I’d finally reach a live person, they weren’t able to help me.
I was on my fourth call and ready to give up when a woman came on the line. I told her everything, that I hoped to reach this wonderful cardiologist who had helped me through the five difficult years that Jason suffered with his congenital heart issues.
She said gently, “I’m going to do something I’m not supposed to do. I’ll send him a message to call you.”
I thanked her profusely and waited. I heard clicking as she rapidly typed a message. “I’m going to read this back to you,” she said.
“I have a woman here that would like to connect with you. She says you took care of her son who passed away 32 years ago. You even spoke at his funeral. There is much that she would like to share, including the fact that she helps other grieving people.”
She finished reading and told me she was crying. Tears were pouring down my cheeks and I couldn’t hold back my choking sobs. I tried to speak and it was a garbled mess.
It was unbelievable to me. Here I was crying on the phone with a total stranger.
I cleared my throat and blew my nose. I said “I just wish I’d thought to contact him sooner. I gave him a painting one month after Jason died – and that was the last time I saw him.”
I gave the original painting for this magazine cover to Jason’s cardiologist.
We both struggled to find composure and then she asked if she could share a similar story with me. For another twenty minutes we conversed and it was incredibly touching.
After this phone call, I wondered how it would be to speak with this wonderful doctor. Hopefully, it would happen. It would be a beautiful story that I looked forward to writing.
This experience showed me how profoundly Jason continued to influence my life. His healing magic surrounded me.
The title for this blog post is a lyric line from my song “Angel in the Sky.” Recently, I released an album with a new vocal version for that song. Clicking on this image is a link.
myjourneysinsight 
Hi Judy, I just want to let you know I think it’s so beautiful that you write about Jason that his healing magic surrounds you. That is such a positive way to express the emotions that you are feeling. I hope his healing magic continues to surround, guide and support you always
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Allyson, I love what you wrote and nothing could make me happier than to know my writing was beautiful and inspiring. I really appreciate your support through the years. You understand grief is a lifelong journey and expressing those feelings are so important.
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Judy, I cried reading this. I really don’t know what to say except thank you for sharing.
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Your comment really touches my hearts, Belinda. For me; the ultimate compliment is hearing that my words triggered tears. Thank you. I’m very appreciative!
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“Only two days earlier, it had been Jason’s death anniversary…” NO coincidences in the experiences you shared in this beautifully written blog post. And Jason, wow, he glows in the photo, as his mom does! (You share the same radiant qualities!) I’m sending you all my love and peace. You have been through so much, yet always manage to lift others up. 🤍🤍
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Thank you, Stacy! I’m so glad he was a happy child, during his short life.
As far as lifting up others, I think that same way about you. We navigate our grief by sharing the beautiful and uplifting moments. We are surrounded by love!
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Beautifully said!!! 🤍🤍
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Sending the biggest hug, Judy. I can’t believe it was the place you could go…but things happen for a reason. And maybe you had to revisit the past to fully let go. I read these posts out of order…so I know what happened. This doctor has to be so touched by your generosity of spirit…to make sure he knew how important he was to you and your family!!
Thank you for sharing so vulnerably…and may you feel relief at having done so. So much love and a great big hug ❤ ❤
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I definitely think that things happen for a reason! Everything has worked out well for me and I’ve felt so inspired to write about my feelings. Sharing is the best feeling – I have received such love and support. It is like a magic carpet swirling under me. I feel incredibly grateful and blessed!
And you are right there next to me – always in my heart, Lorrie!
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Always, Judy!! And I always have a huge cyber hug for you too, my friend!! I believe that is what we are here to do…be vulnerable and share ourselves and our gifts with the world! And as a little “hint”…that is what my research will about and it comes directly from my story. I can’t wait to really share about it, and who knows, maybe you will know someone who can help me with the research.
Until then, keep healing…keep shining ❤ ❤
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I love the signs and I love your smiles!!!!
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Awww! Thank you, Kerri. I love what you wrote!!
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Hello Judy,
I finally have read what you wrote and so appreciate you fowarding it to me.
One never recovers from the loss of a child. I understand, because as you know, I lost my son too. We just learn to live and move on for the others that need us. We feel what you feel too. May you find peace to share with those who love you.
Anita
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Thank you so much for your beautiful comment, dear Anita. I’m glad we’ve reconnected!
I’ll never forget your sweet son, Lance. May his light continue to surround you. He will never be forgotten. Love, Judy
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Judy, I apologize for this “late” reply, but life got the best of me toward the end of the year. This is beautiful, and I’m very happy to see how you were physically and spiritually supported throughout. We’re never alone, and we never know who we’re helping 😉
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No need to apologize, Katherin. I consider you one of my most supportive blogging friends out there! I could write a follow-up to my last blog posts, but I have not had the writing bug. I patiently wait until it hits me. But I can tell you, I am doing much better. I’m hoping for both of us that 2025 will be a good year. I really appreciate you and your thoughtful comments on my blog that I always look forward to.
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🙏🏽 I’m wishing the same for us 🙏🏽
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