Back | Gettysburg Review - Autumn 2005

Back - Rebecca McClanahan

The "back" referred to by Rebecca McClanahan is the state of returning from an extended illness and recovery period.  She makes a beautiful, yes, her prose is such, that you never come back.  You are returned to the world quite changed.

This is a straightforward narrative covering the time of her diagnosis of having a malignant mass in her colon--during a routine procedure--to her recovery.  Mrs. McClanahan gives us plenty of corny humor along the way, keeping things light in this area of darkness.

Her sketches of her aging Midwestern mother coming to New York City and her constant partner and husband, Donald are just enough to remind us how important family is in our lives.  They are a support structure that we are sometimes forced to use, and Mrs. McClanahan recognizes this and clearly loves them dearly.  Her concern over her mother's trip across the street--it's really the avenue--to go to the store touches on how, even when she can hardly move, her love for her mom compels her to do so.

Where this essay really shines and is most effective, is in the interactions with, and the genuine appreciation that Mrs. McClanahan has for, the health care professionals on her case.  Whether it is the male model trio of the pain team or the orderly who stops the gurney, on its way to surgery, at a window so Mrs. McClanahan can have a look at the river (for some reason this passage chokes me up every time I read it; there is something poignant and loving in such a simple gesture that makes me love people) or the nurse's aide responsible for her bath, we see how important they all are to our health and well-being.

These people do this every day of their lives.  They deal with disease and death, the highs and lows of patients and families every day.  We, as patients, can sometimes have little patience for them.  How would we hold up in the relentless fight against disease and death?  How would we behave in the face of pain and suffering as the core part of our daily work?

I would hope that I could be like the men and women who took care of Mrs. McClanahan.  And I would like to think that I could write a love letter of thanks to them as beautiful as this essay.